Just a Few More Years
by LadyoftheLounge
Summary: Chris was still in college. The creature power suits were in the earliest phase of testing. The Tortuga hadn't been built yet, and didn't even have a pilot lined up for it. It should be a good long while before anyone does any proper creature adventuring, but Martin decides to try anyways. UPDATE: Now with fixed italics!
1. 1

It had been a long drive, so it sure as hell wasn't going to be a quiet one, if Martin had anything to do with it. The whole way he was blasting his music, festive and upbeat tracks, and occasionally belting along to the lyrics. The flight from New York to New Delhi was devastatingly long, and this was just his chosen tactic to keep himself awake - although, if he hadn't just gotten off a 14 hour flight only to drive three hours south through hot, muggy jungle air, and was in fact completely well rested and energized, he'd probably be blasting and singing to his music anyway. That's just how he liked to drive.

The roads were winding and the trees were tall, it was like skating across the edge of a giant curtain, weaving up and down over its wind-swept curves, trying to catch a glimpse of anything peaking out from the cover. Martin had spotted a few birds here and there along the way, but not much else in terms of wildlife. These animals must have learned by now to avoid the human roads, and thank goodness too, although Martin dreaded to think of what horrible lessons had to be learned in order for the whole jungle to know to keep away.

He had just been distracted by a blur of brown shooting between the branches - a macaque, perhaps? Or was it too small to be that - when he realized he had just flown by his turnoff. It wasn't too egregious an error, as empty as this highway was of any cars but his own little rental, so he simply stopped and turned around to take the turn, in addition to taking another passing glance at the tree line to see if he could spot the illusive monkey. Sadly, it had disappeared from view.

What he had come onto was a small, narrow and rather steep dirt road heading up the mountain and into the thick jungle. _Mom would hate this_, he thought, remembering how she could hardly stand the thought of him sitting on the roof, let alone ascending a dark and slippery mountain. He wasn't on the little road too long though before coming upon his lodging.

You could rent pretty stunning houses in the rainforest for shockingly cheap, which worked just swimmingly for Martin - Aviva had gotten the vast majority of the grant money for their ambitious research project, and heaven knows she needed every dime of it for that amazing work, and was probably going to need more down the line. To be honest, she wasn't all too pleased that he was even down here to begin with.

"Necesitas desacelerar, Martin," she had said, "we can go on all the adventures we want as soon as the Toruga is finished, give it just a few more years!"

"Well, what am I supposed to do in the meantime?" He had asked.

"Come down here to New Mexico, meet my engineer, you could even help us find a pilot for this thing!"

That would have been a good thing for him to do, but for him, the thought of anything other than going out into the actual wild made him very impatient, even before he tried it out. He had waited several years already, and besides, he had said, someone's got to do something about the leopards.

From what he knew then, it wasn't really a good excuse. Indian leopards were maybe probably supposedly going missing, but really, there had been an uptick in human-cat encounters due to increasing cities in the last few years, and they weren't a particularly plentiful or conspicuous species to begin with, so likely there wasn't anything serious going on at all. But Dr. Tendua was a colleague of one of Martin's professors, and a pretty trustworthy one at that, and when he said he was nervous that something may be up with the big cats and Martin seemed to be the only one who was listening, that was to Martin as good a reason as any to drop what he was doing (which was nothing as of that point) and come down to India to see if he could figure out what was going on. He didn't expect himself to be able to solve all the Leopards' problems in one trip, that would be ridiculous, this was just a diagnostic run. Something quick and simple, a first little taste of real fieldwork.

And what a field it was! It was the final stretch of the rainy season; Amidst the pouring rain itself was a separate, quiet storm of a thousand different earthy smells, where each passed too quickly to be identified but long enough to be a pleasant curiosity, the plants were as lush and green as they could possibly be, the trails were muddy, the frogs were out singing from their mossy domains, taking their last chance to soak in heaven-sent bath, and the deluge itself, which had just picked back up as soon as he had gotten out of his car, was dense and warm. In short, it was perfect. It was hardly a drudge to Martin taking his things into his new temporary residence, which was spacious but drafty and simple, and very empty. Martin would've been happy just staying in a tent in the middle of the storm, but Aviva had taken charge and put him in an actual house.

"If you're going to go there at all I'm not going to let you just lie out on the ground and get swept away in some flash flood" was her opinion. He had tried to convince her that such a thing wouldn't possibly happen, but she wasn't having any of it.

Either way, he was happy to be here at all.

Martin unpacking at any place was a tumultuous affair, a storm of, "where'd I put this," and "did I leave this at home," and "wait, why'd I bring this, I don't need this. I don't even remember packing it." But miraculously he got himself settled down and acquainted with the house.

There was that brief pause after everything got unloaded, a realization that he actually now had time on his hands, and quite a bit of it too. Dr. Tendua was going to meet him here but not until the next morning, and despite the long journey Martin wasn't tired enough to go to bed.

_So now what?_

He looked out the window. The rain hadn't relented, but it didn't bother him before, so why would it bother him now? He had a quick thought that maybe he could go on a quick hike into the jungle, maybe to see if he could find any cool amphibians or insects to take pictures of. He quashed the idea pretty quickly, though. It was reckless, even by his standards. It was getting late, and he was unfamiliar with the area.

_Besides_, he thought, _I'd never hear the end of it if Aviva found out._ He was on thin ice with her for even being here, and that could crack and send him right into the freezing deep end if she knew he went out into the storm anyways, after all she'd done to try and keep him out of it. "What did I tell you about flash floods?" She might say. She would kick him to the curb, and what she was working on, what it could allow him to do for the creature world, was just too important to him to lose over an impulse, impromptu hike.

So instead he stood there, staring at his feet. For all his excitement over this solo mission, there was one thing he hadn't accounted for. He was a people person, and wasn't yet accustomed to being by himself. Maybe in time he'd learn to love a quieter, still moment, but right now he was just bored, and maybe, to just the slightest degree, a but lonely.

He could call mom, he thought, but then again, he had already called her when he landed, and was sure he'd get some kind of ridicule, if loving, for calling out of sheer boredom. "Only those who lack imagination get bored," she said a lot. In Martin's experience, the opposite was true, but try telling her that. He could also go over the data Dr. Tendua had sent him again, but Martin had read it a couple of times already on the flight.

His brother probably would be able to occupy himself in a time like this. _Chris would've brought a book or clippings of newspaper puzzles or something,_ he thought. Chris was just so much better at alone time than his older brother.

_Well, there is one thing I could do._

He rummaged through one of his packs until he pulled out a small, well-worn sketchbook which had been, to his relief, undamaged by the quick trek through the rain from the car to the house. It was hard to tell what portion of it was filled with doodles and what remained empty, as he often just drew on whatever page he opened to, if there was room.

There were a few chairs in the house, but Martin felt inclined to just sit on the floor, his back against a large window, so he could feel all that was between him and the great outdoors - just a thin, glass wall. _Everything he had worked for was right there. He could see it._

He drew the birds he had spotted on the car ride. He tried to draw a plane, but it came off looking a little wonky. He drew different monkeys that might have been what he just missed, darting into the foliage. Mostly, he drew leopards. Leopards lounging, leopards hunting, leopards licking the foreheads of their cubs, spotted leopards, all-black leopards, leopards dancing and drifting dreamily into the dark, pounding, gentle rain of the forest.

.

.

.

There was one other house in that jungle that was stirring with thoughts of the big cats, albeit with more nefarious machinations at work. This house was luxurious, massive, well guarded. Whoever was sponsoring this outpost was liquid and ambitious. It was filled to the brim with monitors and medical devices of all shapes and sizes - not to mention a handful of captured and confused animals - and their wellbeing was certainly not the concern of the men who were working away there, two of which stood before one of their many screens.

"These are really good numbers." Said one, a small and sour-looking scientist with large round glasses and an ever-shifting stance.

"Not good enough." Said the man next to him, who was quite the contrast - tall, broad, muscular, and quite intimidating, despite his middle-agedness and orange chevron mustache.

"I'd have to disagree, I doubt we'll need to be here much - "

The tall man exploded into a rage.

"Every specimen we've procured has been sickly or injured or young. That's. _Not. Good. Enough._ I know as well as you that we need one that's healthy, fit, in it's prime. We need that apex predator!"

"Technically, the tiger is the apex -"

"Technicalities don't matter here. What matters is getting rid of my debt, and what I owe is worth everything we can get from a _solid, powerful animal_."

"And how long will it even take us to do that? These things are near impossible to find, I'm just saying we really should take what we can get and go."

"I don't expect you to understand, Wilfred, I expect you to comply, just like me. We'll leave with the very best, or we won't leave at all."

The large bruiser stormed off. He was an angry man, but the observant viewer would've noticed something else too - a tinge of whiteness, of fear, almost as if he thought it was a ghost at his back who was whispering at him to shout and hunt and maim. Maybe it was, maybe it was a powerful ghost in those shadows, watching from afar, concocting some hellish scheme to unleash upon the world. But here and now, it was just a bunch of men, angry men, loading their trucks with guns and traps, and the angriest of them all, barking orders, smacking heads, making sure he could bring back to that house the best leopard he could find.


	2. 2

Martin woke with a start. He had fallen asleep on the floor, sketchbook in lap, back still to the window. It was morning. The rain was continuing to come down, and the sky was still dark, which was why the sunrise didn't wake him like it would in any other circumstance. His neck was sore, his muscles were stiff, and he had a rather unpleasant bad breath taste in his mouth. But what was by far more of a concern to him was what had actually woken him up.

Standing over him was a teenage girl, maybe 15 or 16, a local, with ratty hair and an boorish expression. Her arms were crossed, and she shouted something in Hindi over her shoulder, which Martin of course didn't understand.

"What- who" groaned Martin, who was still shaking off his stiff and tumultuous sleep.

A man hobbled into the room who Martin quickly recognized as Dr. Tendua, even though they hadn't met before. He was short, had that permanent old man slouch, and was quite a meek and nervous looking man, despite a rough and grizzled face, and an intense squinted expression.

"Oh, heavens, are you alright?" He asked, walking up.

"Yeah, yeah, I fell asleep," Martin yawned, stretching, "but how... who-"

"You left the door unlocked, we were worried something had... _happened_."

_Like what?_ Martin thought as he rose to his feet, continuing to stretch all the way. "I just forgot to lock it, I guess. Sorry, I'm used to working out of a tent."

The girl sneered something again in Hindi, and Tendua gave her a sharp, quick scolding.

"Yeah, um, who is this?" Martin asked, pointing to her. She rolled her eyes.

"Oh, I apologize. This is my daughter, Shikaar. She came along to, ah, help out."

"Against my will." Said Shikaar, giving her head a small shake to get the hair out of her eyes so she wouldn't have to take her arms from their fold. Tendua said something to her hushed and stern, but again Martin didn't understand.

"Are you sure that's a good idea, Doc? Like, is she familiar with doing stuff like this?" He asked.

"Not at all." She said, grumpily. "I don't even like the rainforest."

Martin frowned.

"Look," said the Doctor, "I've got practically no recourses whatsoever, I need all the help I can get, even if it's -"

"Untrained and unwilling?" Cut in Martin. He turned to Shikaar. "No offense."

"No, no, you got everything right." She said.

"I'm not going to make her do anything intensive or complicated. I just want to keep an eye - I want her to keep an eye on our things, or be an extra set of eyes." The doctor continued, slightly flustered.

"Wait - is she here to be babysat?" Martin said. Shikaar shouted something angrily, and it made Martin flinch.

Martin had always been good with kids. He was the oldest of four siblings, he had to be, but admittedly, teenagers... _eluded_ him. He didn't spend as much time with his sisters during high school as he would have liked, and even had a hard time dealing with Chris when he was in his teenage years - and Martin wasn't even in living in New Jersey then (although, to be fair, his absence may have contributed to his younger brother's more moody and difficult temperament). Furthermore, while he always had an open mind for someone interested in learning about the creature world, Shikaar clearly was _not_, and the thought of having to work with someone both unwilling to actually be there and an age range he didn't have practice dealing with (despite how, just five years ago, he himself was a teenager) made him a bit uncomfortable. But Martin looked at the old man, and he just couldn't bring himself to express his real concerns. Maybe it was his impulsive empathy, maybe it was the fatherly desperation he caught in the doctor's eyes, maybe it was the thought that this man too might be struggling to connect with this girl.

"But, I mean, if it's what you think is best," he said either way, "I'll go with it."

Shikaar groaned and stomped off, but Dr. Tendua was clearly washed over with a wave of relief.

.

.

.

So the plan was, as Martin understood it, just to go out into the part of the rainforest where things had supposedly been happening, and catch, tag and release as many cats as they possibly could. That was all they were allowed to do, which was a bit understandable to Martin. The only Leopards that had gone missing were ones that were injured or young, so they didn't have a whole lot of grounds to go on some leopard-avenging crusade. This was just to monitor them, to see if anything was actually happening at all, which, Dr. Tendua was thoroughly convinced something was.

Martin needed to take extra time to get ready, since he had just woken up, but he didn't want to take too long so he rushed with quite a few things, hastily making a packed lunch and shoving all the equipment they needed into Tendua's car, which was more suited for the mountain roads than Martin's, with not a whole lot of thought. Finally they were on their way towards their mission, with Tendua at the wheel, heading into the great unknown.

Leopards were nocturnal, so it would be easier, according to Tendua, to seek them out in the day, when they would be sleeping. Martin was hoping to have searched for them at night so that he could maybe see one in action, but Tendua quietly insisted against it. Tendua himself - he was so timid but so persistent in any decisions he had made. He clearly wasn't comfortable with debating anything, and often skirted around any objections Martin had. Sometimes Martin would suggest they take a turn somewhere, but he would just continue on with his own direction, not saying a word. Martin didn't have the heart to pick a fight, no matter how much it frustrated him. Martin thought maybe Tendua didn't trust his decisions - he was young an inexperienced - or was maybe just uncomfortable working with a stranger, so he figured he'd try to break the ice with some casual conversation, just something to make the pair more chummy.

"How long have you been in this jungle, studying these wildcats, doc?" He asked.

"30 years."

"Sheesh." Martin muttered under his breath.

_I guess I'll probably be studying animals that long too_, he thought. He just couldn't imagine doing it in one place for all that time. He wanted to hop around the globe, finding and studying as many different creatures as he could, and he was absolutely itching to do so. Even the thought of staying in one place for so long made Martin shift restlessly in his carseat - or maybe it was the rain, the low visibility, and Tendua's intense, unwavering forward gaze.

"So I'll bet you know these woods like the back of your hand, huh?" He asked.

"Yes." The doctor said, quietly.

"Okay... do you just study leopards?"

"No."

There was a pause.

"What else... do you study?"

"Right now just leopards."

"But you said - well, what about other times?"

"Other animals."

"Alrighty then - you've got any colleagues around here?"

"No."

"Really? Y-"

"Yes."

Martin didn't continue his thought after being cut off.

It was obvious that the doctor was really not in a talkative mood, so Martin just looked out the window, watching the slowly passing trees and the trails of the rain drops as they were dragged along the glass by the wind. He had learned pretty early on how to keep himself from talking too much if someone wasn't interested, he could thank his introverted brother for that. Even though he really wanted to fill the awkward silence, he knew he wouldn't get anywhere doing so.

Shikaar this whole time had been indignantly silent, as opposed to her father's nervous quietness, wearing her headphones and reading a Bollywood magazine of some kind. Part of Martin was sad that she could be so uninterested in the beautiful forest that surrounded her, but another part of him understood. Dr. Tendua was not the most engaging man he had ever met, and to be honest, he was a bit odd.

_If her father is the only window she has into the natural world, I can see why she's not really into it, especially if he forces it on her like this._

A lot of other zoologists Martin had worked with on trips had been wonderfully enthusiastic, chatting about anything and everything they could about whatever environment they were in, pointing out things about the leaves and the trees, all the different animal sounds they were hearing, and so on. But Tendua pushed forward silently, with a furrowed brow and almost shaking hands.

_He must be a man on a mission,_ Martin thought, trying to calm his own nerves, _or maybe I'm used_ _to working with actual teachers, who are excited becasue they want me to be too. _But the more he thought about Tendua's behavior, the antsier he was getting.

It got to a point where his heart almost leaped out of his chest when the car came to a stop. Martin realized he had been so lost in thought staring out the window that he hadn't been paying attention to the road, and so hadn't noticed that it had ended. Shikaar, when she looked up to look around, suddenly seemed uncharacteristically uneasy, and even though Martin knew it was probably reality hitting her that she actually was going to be dragged into a dark, dense forest, it did little to ease Martin's mind.

"Through this way, there's a spot where I've... seen them." Said Tendua.

They all put on their raincoats and hobbled out into the deluge.

"This weather sucks, and, I don't see a walking trail." Said Shikaar.

"There won't be one," said Martin, letting a small reserve of glee bubble up. "We're straight roughin' it."

"You can't be serious." She said. Martin frowned, something he'd been doing way more often today than he had any other. _Did the doc not tell his daughter what exactly she was getting into, before dragging her along?_

Dr. Tendua proceeded into the woods without saying a word. His behavior was going from strange to suspicious. The research he had sent Martin was so wordy and thorough and passionate, but in person, well, let's just say that if Martin hadn't read any of that data to begin with, he would have never gone anywhere with a man like Tendua, out of fear of being murdered in the woods. It was perhaps a bit harsh, but the doctor was taking them places and providing hardly any explanation, almost like he didn't want them to know where they were going at all.

"Well, I guess I'm carrying the stuff." Said Martin.

"No kidding. What is his deal? He's been really weird since -" she stopped, as if she had forgotten that she wanted to be totally repugnant the whole time and was just now remembering to pick back up the act. "Well, whatever."

Martin raised an eyebrow as he opened the trunk. "Since what?"

"I dunno, since- this stupid leopard thing! It's like he's obsessed with them, he runs off at dumb hours to check up on them or something. Normally he's just a loser, but now he's... creepin me out."

Martin normally would have been taken aback by someone calling their own dad a loser, but right now he just wanted to get to the bottom of what was going on. On top of that, he was relieved to not be the only one feeling uneasy.

"Does he normally take you with him to do this research?" He said as he pulled things out. He noticed that he didn't put the camera tripod in the backpack, so he was trying rather ungracefully and unsuccessfully to shove it into different outer pockets. He then had to find a way to mesh two different backpacks on top of eachother, which went on in the same vein of sloppiness.

Before Shikaar could answer, Dr. Tendua called at them from within the forest. She let out an exasperated huff.

Martin slung the now very unevenly stuffed backpacks onto his back. It was dreadfully heavy, unbalanced and really uncomfortable. Martin sighed and took the wobbly amalgam, and opened the main pocket of one of them. He had to fish around in the mess before pulling out a small handgun, and stuffing the tripod in its place. It was a bit better for the balancing, but still messy as hell.

Shikaar's eyes widened. "Is that a real gun?" She asked.

"What? No, I mean, it's a real tranquilizer." Martin checked to see if it had ammunition, which it did.

"Lame." She grumbled.

He then decided just to carry one backpack over his front, and the other on his back. He looked ridiculous, which Shikaar pointed out, but if he had done it the first way it would've fallen over and spilled everything onto the drenched forest floor.

The backpack-turtle man and grossed out girl scampered into the forest, one holding tightly to the tranq gun, the other constantly removing her hoodie and fluffing her wet hair in case any insects had taken refuge in it from the rain. Shikaar was clearly unaccustomed to hiking in general, let alone through the rain. She slipped several times, and while Martin tried to catch her by the arm as often as he could, she was directly behind him, and he was firmly planted to the gun, with two heavy packs planted firmly to him, so pretty much every time he missed, and she fell to the ground.

_At this rate, we'll never catch up to Tendua_, Martin thought, so he called out for him. Tendua's muffled response through the rain came not from ahead, but to the left. _Had he really taken a sharp turn like that, and expected us to follow him?_

It was almost two hours of wandering, shouting and slipping in the storm before they caught up to Tendua, and they only reached him at all because he had stopped. Shikaar was by now disheveled, exhausted and miserable, and while Martin was doing alright from the hike, he was tense and frustrated.

"Would've been nice if you had waited for us." He grumbled.

"I'm sorry." Said Tendua, who, despite his monotone, seemed to have reached a peaked level of unsettled.

"Whatever, it is what it is. So, is this the spot?" Martin said, hushed, knowing full well that even in a rainstorm, a cat like a leopard could see them coming for quite aways.

"Yes, here, in this... area." Said Tendua, who was not trying so hard to keep his low voice from breaking through the downpour.

"Well, let's look around." Martin looked up into the trees. Admittedly, this place was ideal for a leopard to stay. Plenty of high up brush, sturdy branches, and lots of places as well for potential prey. The doctor really did know his stuff - if they were going to find a sleeping leopard anywhere, it was here. Despite the fact that the doctor was just standing there, shifting on his feet and staring at the ground, while Martin walked around doing all the searching, Martin was starting to feel more at ease. He finally knew what he was doing, and having something to do at all was miles better than sitting helplessly in that car or stumbling around in the jungle. He started even to feel a bit excited. He might actually get to see a leopard in the wild! But then -

"What - what on earth is _that_?" Martin shouted. "Hey, come here, take a look at this!"

Martin had noticed, up in the trees, what seemed to be a straight, long wire. He couldn't really see from his angle where it came from or where it was going, and Martin was lucky to have spotted it at all, considering how high up it was, and how it was mostly cloaked by the rain.

Father and daughter shuffled up to his back. Tendua caught sight of it almost immediately, and let out a thoughtful breath. To Shikaar it took some time to point it out.

"What is that?" She asked, when she finally saw it. "Some kind of telephone wire?"

"Not out here." Said Tendua, glumly.

"You think it's a snare of some kind?" Asked Martin, who thought that as well. Tendua nodded. "It mustn't stay here."

"You're right, I've gotta take it down." Said Martin, taking off the backpack-turtle shell he'd made.

"Are you serious?" Exclaimed Shikaar. "It's all the way up there!"

"So are the animals," said Martin, approaching the trunk, "and god knows what this thing is going to do to them."

"It's raining." She said. "You'll slip and fall, you're insane!"

"Maybe." Martin said.

Martin was not the greatest climber in the world, but he was far better than most. He pulled a rope from the backpack and used it to anchor and lift himself along the tree, slowly ascending. Shikaar was right, the tree was slippery, and he almost lost his footing a few times, but he was determined, and eventually got himself to the wire - no, _wires_.

What had looked like just one was actually one of many, a whole criss-crossed web of tiny, nearly invisible wires. The wires were wrapped under various branches, but all converged on one central point, where they were wrapped around...something. It looked like a large piece of meat, maybe - the lure for the trap. The wire he had noticed was just on the edge of the whole network, but Martin dared not journey to the center. For all he knew, it was primed to slice to bits whatever passed through it.

"So - it's not a telephone wire?" Shikaar called from below.

"Unfortunately." He called back. "I've never see anything like this before. I have no idea how to dismantle it!"

"What was that?" She yelled. Martin was not at a good angle to project his voice through the rain, and that last time he had yelled as loud as he could, so he knew it probably wouldn't do any good to repeat himself. He did anyways, to no avail, but then turned his attention back to the trap itself. He knew one way or another he had to be guaranteed to walk out of these woods with proof, so he pulled his phone out of his pocket and snapped a few pictures of it before he would interact with it.

_How do you work?_ He thought. He tried looking about the contraption in every way he could from his position, but couldn't find a trigger or release mechanism or anything. The wire looked pretty solid too, so it was obvious it wouldn't do much good to climb down and come back with a machete. Eventually, Martin's furious curiosity got the better of him, so he slowly, gingerly, apprehensively drew his index finger towards the nearest wire, stroked it then quickly pulled his hand away. Nothing. He tapped it hard, less carefully, but drew away just as quick. Nothing still. He prodded it a few times, and finally grabbed it firmly with his hand, and shook it furiously. It stayed exactly the same.

"Okay," Martin said to himself, "it doesn't set off easy, so any monkeys or birds that pass through would probably be just fine." He then turned his attention to the meat - that maybe had something to do with how it was set off - only problem was, it was just so out of reach, and despite the dormancy of the trap so far, Martin still wasn't feeling reckless enough to venture into the bowels of it. He needed something that would give him extra length.

So he descended the tree to fetch the tripod. It was the only thing that maybe had a chance to reach it. He brought more rope as well, and climbed back up, with no questions asked from Tendua, carrying the tripod between his legs.

When he reached his previous position, he tied himself in place, and wrestled out the tripod, extending it to its fullest. Still it could not reach the meat. Then he had another, more off-the-wall idea. He tied the mounting part of the tripod to the end of the extra rope, and tried tossing it at the meat like a grappling hook. The first few times he missed, but finally he landed it squarely on the bait.

With that, the whole thing snapped into action, the wires retracting towards the center quickly, wrenching the tripod out of Martin's grasp. The closest wire lacerated the back of his hand as it flew by, so he yelped in surprise and lost his grip on the tree, lurching downwards. He was caught just by his armpits by the rope he tied, which was not tied as tightly as he thought it was. Nevertheless, he regained his grasp and readjusted himself, now with a hand that seemed streaming with red water color, as the rainfall thinned the blood that emerged from the cut. Martin was more interested in the outcome of the trap, and ignored sting of the injury.

What once was a spacious web was now a tight bundle, almost like a ball of rubber bands, just with a branch, a tripod and a piece of meat running through it.

_Now this is a bit more manageable_, Martin thought. He took a few to regain his breath, then proceeded to untie himself from the tree and clamber over to the package.

The branch it rested on was the largest and sturdiest in the immediate area, and held Martin's weight well. Crouched to the side of it, he first slipped the tripod out with remarkable ease, then he poked around the triggered trap until he finally found the true center - not the meat itself, but a small metal box beneath the meat from which all the wires protruded. This was probably where the mechanism for the trap was. There was no switch or button anything on the box, just a small blinking light, and after a ton of effort it was obvious that he couldn't get the whole thing wrangled off the branch. To Martin's chagrin, it had to be left - It was stuck there, but at least it wasn't active. There was nothing he could do.

After snapping a few more pictures, he scooted his way back down the tree, and was met with a worried Shikaar and a solemn Tendua. Martin explained what had happened, clasping his one bloody had with the other all the while.

"I hate to say it, but if there's a perfect trap to catch a leopard, it's that one. It's really strong, up there in the trees, and that piece of meat is too tempting. A smaller animal would either be able to wriggle out or not set it off at all, but a big cat..." Martin shuddered. "So, we need a plan of action."

"How about not bleeding all over the place?" Asked Shikaar, pointing at Martin's flesh wound.

"I mean for the trap, but yeah, I guess we should take care of that."

Martin scuttled over into the nearest and driest spot he could find, and fished around in both of the backpacks for a while to try and find the first aide kit. He finally found it and wrapped himself up, though he knew he might need to get stitches later. For now, this would do. Shikaar sat at the base of a tree, curled in a ball, clearly exhausted and unhappy. Tendua just stood out in the rain, which was slowly starting to relent, staring up at the trap.

_Alright, I need a plan,_ Martin thought, _plan, plan, plan, come brain, let's make a plan._ His mind went down a few rabbit holes, but finally he got something.

"Okay, here's what I think." Martin said, emerging. "We gotta find out who this trap belongs to. It had this little blinky light which tells me it might be sending a signal to whoever put it there. I say we do a stakeout. Hide, wait to see who comes for it, get pictures, slip away, show all of Dr. Tendua's naysayers, get something done about these crooks and become total jungle heroes."

"Or we could go home." Said Shikaar.

"We keep going." Said Tendua.

"What? Are you serious? Doc, we gotta monitor this thing." Martin said.

"We have to find the leopards."

"I don't think we need to anymore, this is all the evidence we need!"

"But what if... there are more traps."

"And what if there aren't?" Snapped Martin. "What if this is it? What if we leave it behind, and they come take it away while we're not here and set up in some other obscure part of the jungle, and we lose the only lead we've got?"

"We keep going."

Martin, who was normally so easygoing, had lost his patience. "Look, my partner is funding this whole thing, and on a whole heck of a lot of faith too. We got so lucky with this, and if we lose that, then I could lose everything."

"Okay, so say we go with your plan. What happens if they spot us? What will they do? You really want to put Shikaar's life in danger? Or your's?"

Martin couldn't come up with a comeback. This was an excellent point, and even though it was Tendua's fault that Shikaar was here in the first place, Martin in his conscience couldn't argue for a plan that would put a kid at risk. That being said, pushing on put her at risk too.

"Do you know where we are?" He asked.

"Yes." Said the doctor.

"Then take us to the car. We're calling it a day."

Shikaar perked up at the thought of going home and resting.

"I've got photographic proof, and if that's all we can get safely, then it's all we need. We don't need to tag the leopards anymore, we know what's happening to them. Let's get together a -"

"Fine." Said Tendua. He gestured them to follow, and hobbled off in a direction away from where the came.

_Maybe we traveled in a big circle, and this way is fastest_. Martin thought. He re-shelled himself with the backpacks and trudged forward, Shikaar groaning and stomping behind him.

Tendua did not lead them back to the car. They walked another hour, and came into another particular group of trees.

"You've got to be kidding me." Said Martin, his head raised up.

Sure enough, up above them, were more wires, more visible here, but obviously the same kind of trap.

"You've got some dumb luck, Doc." Sighed Martin, removing the backpacks to take care of things all over again.

He repeated what he did before, more systematically but also more slowly. Martin knew what to do this time around, but he was also tired, his whole cut hand ached, and his body was starting to be irritated by all the friction with the bark. He photographed the trap, dismantled it, this time taking care to not be whipped by whizzing wires, and carried himself down. "Two in one day, that's pretty good. Now, let's wrap this up."

But that was not by any means the end of it. I'll spare you the monotonous and suffering details, but the group followed followed the doctor on for a few more hours, and kept finding more traps. Trap after trap, climb after climb, everyone so dreadfully quiet along the way - It seemed that either there were so many of these traps in the woods that running into them was inevitable wherever they went, or Tendua knew exactly where each and every one of them were - but as the tasks wore on, Martin was too tired to be perplexed by the whole situation. It was all such a miserable affair, and while the rain had let up completely now, the forest was still muggy and sticky. Martin could hardly haul himself up the last tree. He would have retained a lot more stamina had he some proper climbing equipment, but it was just him and some rope. The only thing that kept him going was knowing he had to get rid of the traps, he had to keep the jungles safe, but it was becoming increasingly clear that the enemy had far more resources than just poor Martin could handle, and that drive for the creature rescue was being overcome by sheer, raw human exhaustion.

"I'm done." He said finally, collapsing into a slouched sit as soon as he reached the bottom of his latest tree. "We're done."

He looked up at Tendua, and saw for once not anxiety nor guardedness, but sadness and sympathy, as if he had finally recognized what he was putting Martin through.

"Let's rest." The doctor said, joining the spent trooper for a sit on the forest floor. Shikaar didn't need to be told twice, and fell to lie on her back, no longer giving a damn about any potential insect invaders.

Martin's stomach grumbled. Without moving from his spot, he lazily reached for the closest pack, which thankfully had what he was looking for - three paper-wrapped peanut butter and banana sandwiches he had made before they left (Martin didn't even realize he had packed a jar of peanut butter at all, it just worked out that way. He planned to live solely on protein bars and the bananas which he bought outside the airport where he landed, but upon discovering the stowaway he figured that would be far tastier). They were all horribly mushed from the journey in the cluttered backpack, but they were delicious and welcome, if messy. He passed the other two to his companions, and they all ate in silence.


	3. 3

They must have gone in a wide circle after all, because after they had finished their lunch, it was just a short twenty minute walk to the car.

"That was some route, doc." Martin huffed.

"Eh - terrain." He said. Martin was too tired to argue, so they all piled into the car.

Now that Shikaar was out of the woods, even she lightened up a bit, and actually started asking Martin questions about what had happened.

"So, those traps - how do you know they were for leopards? Couldn't a tiger get caught in one too?" She asked.

"Oh no," Martin said. "While tigers _can_ climb, they won't do it unless they absolutely have to, not even for food. They usually just climb to escape. But a leopard's whole lifestyle is built around the trees. They live and breathe up there."

Shikaar frowned. "But I thought all cats like to climb."

Martin laughed. "No, a lot of people see the behaviors in house cats and prescribe them to wild cats too, and while it is true there are a lot of similarities, that's not always accurate. Take tigers again, for instance. House cats hate water, and so do most other cats, but Tigers actually _love_ to swim, like me!"

"Oh, so, so how like... lions live in groups, right? And, now that I think about it, no other cat does that?"

"Absolutely! Like people, each kind of cat is unique in their own amazing way."

Martin talked to her about big cats the entire rest of the drive, and in a way it was relaxing and refreshing. Shikaar herself had put away her contemptuous attitude, as if it was the trek in the woods that gave her it in the first place. She was clearly tired, but she too found some comfort in a friendly discussion after putting that whole misery trip behind her. Tendua was still dead silent, but it felt as if the edge had been taken off him just a bit, though Martin never really looked directly at the man the whole time, since he was turned in his chair to talk to Shikaar. Martin was too brain tired to grill him on his strange behavoir, so he stuck to what he knew by heart, what made him happy. It was a strange feeling in the car, but a good one. The chance to finally catch a quick taste of rest briefly erased so much of the tension and suspicion, like they were all fighting and fleeing helpless little raindrops who had finally found their sleepy little puddle.

Finally, they reached Martin's residence.

"Let's start again tomorrow, but maybe not so early." Said Martin, pulling out of the car, approaching the back trunk. "I'll need all the energy I can get to come up with a good game plan, so I'll need a lot of rest for sure, although..." Martin looked at the sky. "I've got some time."

They had started early, very early, and even after the several hours spent trudging through the jungle, it was only now about mid-afternoon.

"I don't know... if I need your help anymore, Martin." Said the doctor.

"What, seriously?" He said. "But we have to figure out who the poachers are, and how to deal with them!"

"No, Martin. I've got the evidence I need, I can't... I shouldn't rope you into more. I can take care of it from here."

"But I want to stop these guys, just like you!"

"You've already done so much, Martin, I can't ask for anything more from you."

"It's not about that, doc." Said Martin. "I'm gonna stay here, and make sure they get what's coming." Martin pulled the last pack out of the trunk. "Because I want to do it. For the forest. For the leopards!"

Tendua hummed thoughtfully. Martin slammed the trunk close. "I'll see you guys tomorrow, okay? We'll take care of this together."

Tendua nodded hesitantly.

"Alright, I gotta go in and sleep. You guys drive safe!"

Goodbye, Martin." Tendua said. The doctor with his daughter drove away.

Martin dragged the backpacks inside but dropped them as soon as he made it through the door and onto the hardwood. He was determined to sleep in the actual bed this time, not on the floor, so he carried himself upstairs and did just that, collapsing onto the soft mattress with a sigh of relief, falling asleep nearly instantly. He dreamt of tigers swimming, and leopards watching them from their tree perches. The tigers were chasing hunks of meat that were floating in the river, while the leopards were eating peanut-butter and banana sandwiches.

.

.

.

Martin woke with a lot of energy, but he looked outside, and saw that it was dark out. He checked the digital clock on his nightstand. _10:33, that was a good six hour nap,_ he thought. He considered trying to go back to bed, but he just couldn't physically shut his eyes. He had completely forgotten to take jet lag into consideration - where he had come from, it was 1:00 in the afternoon, and he had barely had a day to acclimate his sleep schedule. It was a valiant effort of his to stay awake whole flight over, and while it certainly helped his first night's sleep, this nap, however necessary, had thrown a wrench into any and all adjustments. Nevertheless he was awake, and he was hungry, so he ran downstairs to grab a snack.

In typical Martin fashion, the peanut butter jar that had come along was a nearly empty one. Martin didn't really want to use up what was left, so he ripped open one of the protein bars and dug into it. It was not the tastiest thing he had ever had, putting it mildly. He wanted to kick himself for buying a whole box without testing one first, but reasoned that it wasn't the end of the world, he could just go into town tomorrow and get food from a local market. For now, he could tolerate the little bar, so long as he accompanied it with one of his bananas.

Martin sat on one of the kitchen chairs and signed contently. Now that the exhaustion, strain and confusion was behind him, he was very happy. He thought this would just be some ordinary tagging excursion, that nothing would come of it at all, but they found a really serious poaching setup, and could actually do something about it. Even though Tendua had been odd, they got such great work done, and it was thanks to him, whatever one may want to say. He felt less guilty for leaving a peeved Aviva, because now the excursion wasn't an excuse. Now he had a real reason to be there.

_Oh, shoot! I should probably call her and tell her what happened. _Martin reached into his pocket for his phone, and - it wasn't there. He checked his other pocket. It wasn't there, either. Martin bolted up from his chair and ran upstairs. He looked all around where he slept and couldn't find it. He searched the whole house, high and low, but it was nowhere. He turned the backpacks inside out and found nothing, nothing but a cluttered, phoneless mess. Martin's heart grew tense and heavy. Did he _really_ lose it in the jungle? It had all the pictures, all the evidence on it. It was all they had right now, and all they probably could get, because, as far as he knew, whoever had set those traps was out there taking them down that very moment.

"Come down, Martin, it's okay. It's _oh-kay_." He said to himself. "Aviva planned for something like this."

Indeed she had, well, more or less. In addition to the main project, Aviva had been working on a new prototype phone that used a really strong GPS reciever for tracking as opposed to relying on cell towers, so that they could be located in remote places that didn't have service of any kind. Martin of course begged her to let him name the device, but so far what he had proposed - iPaw, Creature Beeper, Animalpod, - she didn't really like. Anyway, Aviva had put the system into Martin's regular phone just to make sure it could function without frying the other circuits. She had given him a prototype tracker for the thing too, "just in case - I know how much you lose things," she had said. Martin had gotten fussy then, but now, if Aviva were there he would've been bowing and kissing her feet. He knew he brought the tracker too, he had seen it several times during his various rummagings.

For kicks and grins, Aviva had make the tracker out of an old gameboy, and it retained the exterior, buttons and screen, which wasn't even backlit. Martin knew it would be annoying to have to shine a flashlight on it in the dark to see what was displayed, but it was totally fair that Aviva hadn't poured anything fancy or high-tech into the gadget, since Martin was just as likely to lose that as he was his phone.

Martin didn't grab too much else - water, wallet, and another protein bar. He didn't want to have to wrestle with the usual overpacked and unorganized messes that were his backpacks, and traveling light came easier to him than straightening up his stuff. He turned on the map, got into the car, and set out.

He was immediately extremely confused. He arrived at the same stop in the road that the whole group had arrived at earlier in the day, but instead of the drive being a couple of hours, it was only about twenty minutes. He was absolutely positive it was the same place too, he recognized the rock formations even in the dark, so he was just completely baffled. Did Tendua want to take them on the scenic route or something? The shorter drive was lined with massive houses and tall chicken-wire fences, even a small, unsightly little airfield, as opposed to dense jungle, but for a matter he was so concerned about, Martin figured Dr. Tendua wouldn't've been so eager to go the long way. Stranger still, according to the map, his phone seemed to be at the first place where they had found and dismantled a trap, as opposed to the last place. Martin had photographed every single trap, so it made no sense why it would be back at the beginning.

_Did a monkey grab it and carry it or something? Either way_, he thought, _I've got to get it back._

With a good rest, a lighter load, no more rain, and no more tripping teenager to worry about, Martin cut his travel time nearly in half. He was determined, and walked briskly but quietly. Several insects caught his eye along the way, and he'd stop to admire them, but in the deep, dark forest, with the light of the flashlight focused on either the map or what he was walking on, he didn't have too much else to distract him.

Part of him realized that he probably should've brought his tranq gun, since there most likely were leopards in this area, but he was here now, and didn't want to go back. Besides, leopards were usually ambush predators, and Martin was moving too quickly to be a target.

But -

He stopped dead in his tracks. There was another reason now why he might've wanted to bring that gun.

Martin saw on the map that just 70-ish yards ahead of him was his phone. But he could tell from the sound of distant, gruff chatter, to faint streams of moving light beams ahead, that also 70-ish yards ahead was a large group of men. Martin knew instantly that they must be the poachers. He shut off his flashlight and slipped into stealth mode, laying low, lightly feeling every step ahead of him before completely planting his feet, making sure not to make a sound.

The light from the group's flashlights gave him a chance to survey the landscape, and find a hidden spot that was close enough for him to eavesdrop without being seen. Ironically, what he settled on was the same cover he had taken to wrap his hand after it got sliced - a large shrub that hung over a small ditch. He crouched down, and finally let himself get a good look at the men.

They were clearly not your run-of-the-mill poachers. They were professional looking, armed to the teeth, wearing ballistic vests, carrying both large tranq guns and actual guns, military grade to boot. They were just standing there, guarding the trap while a few men with professional climbing equipment were up in the trees, inspecting the thing.

Martin scanned the faces of each man, thinking that maybe he could later describe them to authorities if he got away, or even find a sneaky way to stop them here and now, but instead his eyes fell upon something much, much worse.

There, amidst the group of criminals, was Dr. Tendua.

_Shit!_ Martin thought. _Did they capture him? Oh god, did they get Shikaar too? _But the more he observed, the more peculiar the situation seemed.

Dr. Tendua did look nervous, yes, but no guns were pointed at him, his hands were not tied, no one was even looking at him, let alone sneering at or mocking him, as typical captors tend to do - at least, from what Martin had seen in action movies.

_So what's going on?_

At that moment, a new entourage arrived, led by a large, muscular but older man with flaming red hair, cauliflower ears and a big mustache. He was ornery and pugnacious looking, and his obvious distaste for his surroundings was not dissimilar from Shikaar's. He was not a clean or refined man, but he was not a forest man either.

"Okay, what the HELL is going on here?" He spoke loudly, with a heavy cockney accent, "If you little shits have let anything happen that's gonna keep me in this hole for any longer, I'm gonna use your flesh to bait the leopards myself!" He screamed a few more intense profanities.

"All the traps were set off earlier today, but nothing was in them." Said one of the armored dudes who was already there. "Every. Single. One of them?" He asked through gritted his teeth, clearly using every ounce of power he had to keep himself from strangling the nearest person.

A weaselly, small, considerably less intimidating man stepped out from behind his tank of a companion. "They all malfunctioned?" He said, with a nasally voice. "Impossible. That's completely impossible! They are _perfectly_ engineered."

"We're not saying they misfired over nothing, sir."

"Well then, what _are_ you saying?" Boomed the mustachioed man.

"The good doctor has a theory." Said another man. Dr. Tendua tried to shrink away, but one of the men pushed him into the center of the group.

"Now, doctor," said the big man, with a suddenly and creepily smooth tone, "you're not telling me _you_ set these off, did you?"

"No, Mr. Bruce, but I - "

The man laughed mockingly. "Come on, are we not friends yet? It's Vincent!"

"Alright, Mr. Vincent." He said, timidly.

The man, apparently named Vincent Bruce, knelt down do the scrawny doctor's height. "So, Leopard man, why don't you tell me what happened, so we can take care of things as soon as possible, yeah?"

Dr. Tendua shuddered.

"So, what was it, ah? A monkey? Are the leopards extra _slippery_ this time of year?"

"I - I found this." Dr Tendua reached into his pocket, and pulled out, to Martin's horror - _Martin's phone_. He clenched his teeth, and curled into a tighter ball behind the shrub.

"What's this? A phone?" Vincent snatched it out of Tendua's hands with the speed and ferocity of a pit viper's bite, and rose to his feet. "What's the meaning of this?"

"I, ah, found it on the forest floor."

"So you're saying a hiker did all this? A little tourist?"

"Not necessarily, I, well, I heard that a young zoologist, I think his name was Martin Kratt, was doing a research trip in this area. On leopards, no less." The doctor said.

Martin had to scrunch his face as tightly as possible to keep himself from screaming.

"No kidding?" Said Vincent, turning the phone around in his hand, as if it were a gold bar he was trying to authenticate. "Have you been able to unlock it?"

"No, not yet." He said.

"I'll take care of _that_." Said the small man. He gave off that ugly vibe you get from someone who thinks that they're smarter than and thus superior to everyone else in the room. Martin had known a few people like that.

_Good luck_. Martin thought, angrily. To protect some other programming modifications she had made, Aviva had encrypted the phone. Chris was rather horrified that Martin would trust anyone to make that many changes to his phone, but Martin didn't really care so long as it still worked fine.

And now, it was in the hands of these poachers and crooks. It was unusable for them, sure, bit still...

"You got anything else on this Martin guy?" Asked Vincent.

"Well, I think he studied under a colleague of mine, and right now he's partnered up with a pretty high profile roboticist who's still in the states, building some kind of cybernetic enhancement suit, but that's about all I know."

Martin entire face was by now wracked so thoroughly with a grimace that it was giving him a headache. What was, in fact, all Dr. Tendua knew about him, and he gave it all away. It wasn't a lot, but Martin had no doubt that if Tendua did know more, he'd spill it all.

"Well, one way or another, we'll find out about him..." said Vincent, tossing the phone into the hands of his vile little scientist. "..so don't you worry your poor old head off. You have enough grey hairs already, you could do without the stress." He turned away from the not-so-good doctor and addressed the rest of the men. "Alright! Let's get these traps down and head back."

"And then we'll reset them, and put them back out, right?" Asked the little scientist.

"Nah, as much as I want to get this crap over and done with, if the kid knows to look for them, and how to disable them, his is a more pressing matter."

The scientist groaned, and pulled out and pressed a remote control. With a metal whipping sound, the entire trap released from the branch and fell to the floor.

"SPREAD OUT!" Boomed Vincent.

Martin had seen enough, and besides, if they were getting on the move in multiple groups, it wasn't safe for him to stay and watch. He snuck off, and when he was a far enough distance away, he ran as fast as he could, following the little GPS map back to his car.

Martin's brain was scrambling as fast as his feet were. He was furious, scared, confused, thinking _how did I get into this mess_ and _why didn't I realize_ and _I will strangle that little sorry sneak when I get the chance_ \- was that all Tendua's weirdness was? A trick? A setup? _Why, why, why?_ Why had he turned against the animals he was so devoted to for so long? Why pretend? Why involve Martin? What did Tendua have against him?

Martin remembered how Tendua was trying to grab any and all zoologists he possible could, to such little avail. If any of them came on board, he probably would've thrown them all under the bus too, for who knows why. _I was just the dumb kid who fell for it all._

Martin ran and ran and ran, miraculously not tripping, his mind still in such turmoil, but this time with the anger directed, a bit unfairly but nevertheless fiercely, at himself. _They were all right, everyone else was all right! Why did I trust him? Why didn't I ask any questions? Why did I ignore it all, why did I not give one damned second of thought to what was going on? Why can't I see these things coming? Why can't I be more like-_

Martin finally exited the forest, and almost ran into his car. He skirted around the front of it and wrenched himself in, pulled off probably one of the fastest and most violent three-point-turns ever, and sped away.

_Why did I ever come here? What do I do now?_


	4. 4

Martin could barely control his breathing, let alone the car, as he sped along the forest road back home. He nearly went right off the road several times, he was so shaken. Somehow, he made it back to the house in one piece - physically at least, in his mind, he was completely in pieces, as one would be after finding out they had been given up to the villains by the one person they had come to help.

He paced, and paced, and paced. He locked the door. He didn't know what else to do. He paced some more. He had to clear his head. He had to think of _something_. As much as he wanted to curl up in a ball and scream, he knew that he got himself into this situation, and now had to get himself out of it. Besides, no matter how scared and angry he was, he was still as determined as ever to save the leopards. _It doesn't matter if Tendua is on my side or not. I'm going to stop these guys._

Martin pulled out a laptop he had brought along. Originally it was going to be used to store and analyze any data they had collected, but now it was so much more important. _You're gonna to try to find about me, Brucey? Well I'm going to find you first._

Martin pulled up a search engine and plugged in the name of the man he had seen, feeling such a new wave of confidence. However, the wave rolled back away: the outcome was disappointing. A few career websites, a facebook page here and there, but no Vincent Bruce on the internet looked remotely like the loud, burly man.

After about 10 minutes or clicking and searching around, Martin folded forward and banged his head against the table.

Then he got a new plan, one he probably should've gone with sooner.

Aviva was busy, busy, busy, busy, and not happy at all that Martin had left for India, because it seemed just like an excuse for Martin to not have to wait or help with some of the menial tasks, and to be fair, it had started out that way, but it wasn't that anymore. Now the situation was desperate and dangerous. _She'll understand - I don't have to ask for much, right? Just info?_

Martin got up, paced a bit more, then sat back down and started a video call.

His heart beat faster with each dial tone. _I hope she understands. I hope she won't be mad._

The person who picked up did not understand, and was not mad. The person who picked up was not Aviva.

Martin blinked. He didn't know the woman on the screen, or at least didn't recognize her as someone he had seen, but her intense, fiery expression, her standing in a large hangar of some kind with what sounded like welding going on in the background and the fact alone that she was answering on Aviva's behalf told him who this was.

"You're... Koki, right? The engineer who's helping Aviva build the Tortuga?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You're Martin, right? The zoologist who went on vacation instead of staying to help?"

Martin gestured across his clothes, which he had not changed since before his flight to India. "Does it _look_ like I'm on vacation?" Plainly, he looked like garbage.

She grinned impishly. "Alright, alright, I was just teasing. What'd'ya need?"

"Can I talk to Aviva, please? I need - I _really_ need to talk to her."

"Uh, is everything alright over there?"

"Um, I've been better, I just... this is important."

"I believe you, no worries. I'll call her over. HEY AVIVA!" She called over her shoulder. "YOU'RE BOY'S CALLED, HE WANTS TO TALK TO YOU!"

"Can you tell him to call back later? I'm busy." Came Aviva's voice from offscreen somewhere.

"HE SAYS IT'S 'REALLY IMPORTANT'."

There was a groan, a stop to the welding sound, a clanking of something metal, and then some echoey footsteps. Koki turned back to Martin. "She'll be here in a sec."

The phone that was being used on their end for the call was rustled out of Koki's hand, and in one swift and shaky movement Aviva's face came into view. Her expression started out as one of annoyance, but it shifted to concern once she got a good look at her rattled and disheveled colleague.

"Dios mío, Martin, what happened to you?"

"I, uh... haven't gotten the chance to change clothes in a while."

Martin's cheeky remark lightened her mood.

"No kidding, I can practically smell you through the screen! So what is it, what's up?"

"I need your help, could you.. could you look someone up for me?"

"Are you serious?" She snickered. "You're calling because you can't use google?"

"No, I tried google, nothing came up. I think I need more, uh, classified information."

"Like what?" She said, setting the phone down, propping it up against something so that she remained in view. She sat down, and pulled a laptop up to her, with Koki looking over her shoulder in interest.

"Like... criminal records, or something?"

She scrunched her nose in confusion. "Is this about the leopards?"

"Yeah."

She looked uncertain, but asked for the name anyways.

"Try and find Vincent Bruce."

She did a solid minute of typing, Martin tapping his foot all the while. Finally, she stopped, darted her eyes as she read a page, and furrowed her brows. "Martin, what is this about?" She asked, without looking up from the laptop screen. Koki too looked concerned.

"Did you find him? Who is he?"

"Martin, you have to tell me what's going on."

"And I have to know who he is."

"You will once you_ tell me._"

Martin huffed. To be honest, he had been dreading telling Aviva what had happened, just because he had so horribly and so spectacularly lost control of the situation, a situation that he had put himself in _against her counsel_. But he knew it wasn't going to do any good to let his embarrassment and pride withhold the account. He told her everything.

By the end of the tale of woe, Koki's jaw was dropped, and Aviva had her elbows on the table, hands folded in front of her mouth, as she stared solemnly down at nothing. The two women sat in silence for a beat.

"Martin, you've got to get out of there." She said, finally. It was just what Martin feared she would say.

"I can't. You have to tell me who he is, first. You said you would."

"He's a _dangerous man_, Martin, and not someone you should be messing with."

"Tell me."

"Vincent Bruce. Wanted by Interpol, the MI6 - he's a violent gangster who's worked for numerous terrorist cells, he's beaten men, many to death, I... some of these pictures, Martin, I just..." she rubbed her eyes.

"So... is he a poacher, too?"

"Not from what I can see, no. He's much worse."

"Then why is he after leopards?" Asked Koki.

"I don't know." Said Martin. "And I'm going to find out."

"Wait, Martin. This guy knows you're here, and knows you're after him. This could get so ugly so fast. You need to pull out before you get hurt!"

"And what about the leopards? What about the rainforest? I have to protect that."

"We're scientists, Martin, not warriors." She said, heatedly. "We can't - "

"And what sort of scientists are we, then," he said, cutting her off, "if we just sit an watch the planet get ripped into? Is that what I signed up for?"

"No, of course not, I - " she took a beat to breathe. "Martin, you don't have to do anything at all. You know how I also got all those offers from military and security groups to come work for them?"

"Yeah, I know, you turned them all down, because you don't want to use your talents for wars, but this isn't a war, it's -"

"¡Ignorante! Let me finish. They're still trying to get me on board, and any one of them would do me favors beyond reason just for the chance to get me to consider. They'd conquer small countries for me, Martin, that's how desperate they all are. One phone call, and I can have this whole place _swarming_ with warriors. They'll catch this Bruce guy, save the leopards, and you can come home safely."

"That's - probably a good idea," He said, "But I - maybe not yet."

"Not yet? What, you need more time to get yourself killed?"

"I need... I need to talk to Tendua."

Aviva's jaw dropped. "Martin, are you serious? The guy who stabbed you in the back like that?"

"He's a rotten little liar, but I don't think he's dangerous." Martin protested.

"Giving you up to a man like Bruce, that seems to put you in pretty big danger to me."

"He's just a _coward_, I swear. If I can find the right words, I... I might be able to get something out of him. Something that can help us, like, I dunno, where their base of operations is? Just give me one day, then I'll call you and let you rain down your vengeance, and if I don't call, you can rain anyways."

She shook her head, then smiled. "Just don't do anything to make me rain on you."

"Nothing like that, I promise." He said.

"Seriously, stay safe. I can't do this project without you, no matter how much you vex me."

"Okay, welp... I need to sleep."

"Oh, It is late where you are, isn't it? Okay, look at me. You get rest, you stay away from Bruce, you get your clarity, and you call me, comprende?"

"Yeah, I got it."

"And first, you change your clothes."

Martin chuckled. "Alright. It was nice meeting you, Koki."

"Let's do it in person next time." She said.

"Good night, you two, or, good afternoon, whatever it is." He said.

"Talk to you soon." Said Aviva. She hung up.

Martin sighed, and rose from his chair. He stood, rocking for a bit. He was going through his head for how to confront Tendua. He had the address. He was starting to have the words. He just couldn't do anything yet. Every inch of him wanted to track Tendua down and berate him right now, but he figured right now he was still with that gang of crooks, and would be till who knows when at night. He was certainly too restless to sleep. So, it was a waiting game.

He changed his clothes first, of course, though he didn't have anything exceedingly comfortable, as he had forgotten to pack pajamas and brought only working clothes, but just a fresh t-shirt and a pair of khakis was comfortable enough. He had a crack at drawing more, but this time his hands were shaking too terribly. All he could manage to crank out was a sloppy self portrait before he gave up on the endeavor.

He didn't want to go on a walk, his legs and arms were still horribly sore, so he came to one room on the second floor with a big glass sliding door that led to a small deck, which he had not yet been on.

He stepped out upon it and stared into the night, putting his hands and leaning on the low railing.

The night scene was dark and magnificent. The sky was now only partly cloudy, and spectacular stars poked through where they could. The forest stretched on beyond his visibility, and was singing to him a lullaby of frog calls and insect songs. He even heard what might have been the chirping of a colony of flying foxes, as they fluttered about and relished in their natural state, dancing the dance of the hunt. Everything was tranquil and elegant. If only Martin could live it without so much on his mind.

Eventually he came back inside, pulled away by another idea. He shot straight back to the laptop to see if he could find anything more about his former ally, Tendua. He learned nothing new, but searched and searched anyway, hopping from one dead-ended lead to another. He just had to know _why_. Why Tendua had betrayed him, why he had betrayed the forest, why he had built this elaborate ruse. The more he searched the more confused he became. Tendua seemed just to be an upstanding man, an excellent biologist, and a loyal colleague. But it couldn't be true, it wasn't.

Martin wasn't too concerned, though, that he didn't find any new info. He knew he'd find all the answers he needed, tomorrow, when he stares the traitor down.


	5. 5

Martin messed up again. When he last remembered checking the clock, it was around 10:00 in the morning. When he woke up, face down on the table, it was 3.

In a panic, he leapt out of his chair, knocking it over, and scrambled to get himself ready. At this point his body clock was proven to be far beyond broken, but with all the fear and confusion that had been swirling around Martin at the time, this was the first time he actually seriously cared about the issue, because it was the first time it had unintentionally sabotaged one of his attempts to get things sorted out - Tendua's house was far away; he should've left a long time ago.

Tendua, thankfully, had not come back to Martin's house to continue the research, as Martin had encouraged him to do before discovering the man's treachery, so it was clear he wasn't even trying to keep up the act anymore. He had already betrayed Martin to the criminals, so why should he? He probably guessed there wouldn't be a Martin around that he'd have to lie to anyways.

Martin changed clothes once again. They weren't really messy or dirty this time, he just knew he was on his way to a serious and potentially disturbing situation, one that at best would be an unpleasant interrogation of a man who had betrayed his colleague and calling in life and at worst could be downright life-threatening, and a baby blue t-shirt that read "DUKE BLUE DEVILS" on it and also bore that impish mascot probably wasn't the most fitting garment for the circumstances. While he didn't normally concern himself with style or fashion, he at the very least had enough dignity to not want to be found dead in a ditch wearing the thing.

Martin had Tendua's address thanks to the professor he'd been taught by who was Tendua's colleague - when the professor found out Martin was going to work with him, they gave him that information, knowing Tendua might not "communicate all the details." That was by now clearly an understatement, but how could that professor have possibly known? Well, they were unwilling to work with the man despite trusting his expertise so maybe there might have been some knowledge on Tendua's character, but other than that it clearly would've come out of left field for anyone; otherwise this professor, who Martin knew to be very caring and passionate about his line of work, would have begged Martin not to go, regardless of whether or not it was going to be a "good learning experience," which was the reason given as to why they thought Martin should take the trip at all, despite their own doubts about the endeavor.

_Yeah, it sure was a good learning experience. I've learned that I'm really gullible._

Once again Martin packed light, only this time, he did bring the gun.

The drive was unbearable. The further on he got, the more tense he became. His grip on the steering wheel tightened more and more with every mile that passed, which racked his injured hand with pain, only adding to Martin's shaking, red-hot dread.

Finally, after three hours, there it was.

It was a rugged, unsavory townhouse, which didn't surprise Martin. Tendua had never been involved in any high-profile research, so never got the money to support a comfortable life. _He better not be doing this for the money_, Martin thought, pulling out of the car. _Either way, this is not going to be fun._

Every step Martin made towards the door pulled his stomach into a tighter knot. By the time he was raising his hand to knock, he felt like he was going to throw up then and there, but just before he signaled his arrival, he paused, breathed, and pushed it all down. Then - contact with the door, the loud thumps echoing like sledgehammers in his brain.

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

There was silence, then a brief shuffle. It was Shikaar who opened the door, which brought the knot in his stomach right back.

_Was she in on it too? Is she in danger from her own father? I sure hope not._

"Martin!" She said. Her initial surprise turned to despondency. "Dad - dad said he was going to talk to you, about, well, he said he wasn't going to need you anymore, and would ask you to go home.."

_Of course he did. He probably thought I was going to be axed by now, anyways._

"Well, I need to talk to him."

"Okay," she said, hesitating. "Come in, I guess."

Martin came in and, clearly summoned to the door by the conversation, the man Martin was in such turmoil over had sidled up behind her.

"Martin!" Said Dr. Tendua.

"Dr. Tendua." Said Martin.

"What - what are you doing here? I -"

"You never came to me, like I asked, so what else was I going to do?"

"Look, I was - going to call you, and say that - I _don't_ really need your help with the leopards anymore, I got a lot more people on board now, you can go home."

"Oh, I'm not here for that." Said Martin, through one of those angry smiles.

"Really - what are you - why are you here?"

"We need to talk about _Vincent Bruce_."

Tendua grew pale. Shikaar asked him a question in Hindi, and whatever his response was, well, at first she protested, but after a stern look, the trepidatiously went upstairs and out of sight.

"Let's - talk in the kitchen." He said.

Martin stuck his hand in his pocket, not to pull out the tranq gun, but just to hold it, just to be ready, in case this kitchen was filled with a troop of armed poachers ready to make him their next game. It was an implausible scenario, but that was about the level of suspicion that Martin's admittedly overactive imagination had risen to.

The kitchen was, in fact, empty, and dingy, and low-lit. Tendua sat down, and gestured for Martin to do the same, but Martin didn't. He remained standing, and paced angrily.

"So this... Vincent Bruce..." the man tried to feign ignorance, but the caution that accentuated the name and his face growing grey with fright told a different story. "Is he... the one behind the leopards?"

"I saw everything, Tendua."

Tendua knit his brows.

"I went back to the traps to find my phone, I saw you give it to him. I know you know who he is, so don't play dumb."

Tendua swallowed.

"So, this whole time. This whole time? That dumb long route you took us on, you knew where the traps were, huh? Because you help them _put them there_, right? Even the car ride - one of those big houses along the short drive - was their hideout, wasn't it? And you didn't want me to find it, so you took the long way around the mountain? Is that why you brought Shikaar too? Did you think if I was busy picking up after your fumbling daughter, that I wouldn't notice?"

This last accusation set him off. "It's not that, Martin!"

"Oh really? Well, enlighten me, because I'd love to know why you've decided you liked poaching better than zoology! Was it for money? Did you get bored?"

Tendua regained his composure, and sighed.

"Martin, I am... so sorry."

"That's rich, doc. You really expect me to believe you give a damn?"

"I do! I do give a-" He said, suddenly getting worked up again. "If I didn't care about the leopards, why would I want you to get rid of the traps at all?"

"Yeah, you tell me, because that's the part I still don't get. This whole elaborate game is kinda dumb, what, you get rid of the traps of the people you're working for just to shove the blame on some sorry sucker? What good would that do to anyone, aside for someone who just wants to cause trouble? Seems like the move of a masochist to me!"

"IT'S NOT LIKE THAT!" He shouted, rising to his feet. Martin was unwavering, and stared the man down. Tendua froze in a furious tension, but an unstable one, so sat back in his chair. Martin had expected the worst, so the short man's outburst didn't phase him.

"Vincent Bruce approached me about two months ago, said he wanted me to help him catch leopards. I of course refused," Martin raised a skeptical brow at this, "I did, really! But then he... found things out about me that he couldn't have possibly known, and held them against me. I don't know how he... there was just no way that... Worse yet, he... he threatened Shikaar. That's why I brought her, you know, so they couldn't get her while I was away. What's a father to do?"

"The responsible thing. Get the authorities involved."

"It wasn't like that Martin, I'm telling you, the man had almost psychic abilities, he knew that - well, I just couldn't refuse."

Martin rolled his eyes.

"It killed me, Martin, to have to work against my own rainforest. I thought maybe I could fight back in secret, get the other biologists to believe something was going on, and come down to help, but - but they never believed me."

"Hey, you know what would've helped with that? Telling them the actual _truth_. Saying, 'hey! There are some weird poacher guys! They're threatening my daughter! Please help.'"

"I told you, he could find out... so much!"

"Really? How is he more likely to find out about an honest cry for help than a dishonest one?"

"I - I" he stammered.

"And why turn me in, huh? Why was _that_ so important?"

"I'm sorry Martin, I didn't know what else to do - I didn't want them to hurt you, I swear, that's why I was going to ask you to leave! I never wanted to give them the phone, but one of the guys saw that I had it, and, well," he sighed, "I had to protect my daughter, and if they found the phone I knew they'd crack it and find you anyways, so I... well, you know."

Martin squinted. As much as he wanted to label Tendua a villain, maintain his anger and smash his face in, he clearly wasn't that - he was just a desperate, horribly unthoughtful and irresponsible man.

"They won't crack it." He said. "My partner encrypted it, there's no way they're getting through."

"That's a relief." Said Tendua, with an expression that matched his statement.

"So what _was_ your plan?"

"Give the phone to my colleagues. Show them what was going on, bust up the operation, but now... I have no evidence, I'm stuck."

"So... you took my phone?"

"Yes - but like I said, Martin, I never wanted to give it to the poachers! I was going-"

"Wait, but, you thought you could just steal my phone, give it to scientists or poachers or whoever and just send me off without me noticing?"

"I mean - yes. You seemed a bit... disorganized."

Martin started like he had a comeback, but didn't. This was Tendua's first fair point.

"I'm sorry Martin, I just... didn't really know what else to do. So we're here now."

"Well, you know what I'm going to do?" Martin said. He was still of course furious, but had not anticipated not needing to furiously defend himself. He had quite a deal of rage but now nowhere fitting to direct it to, so it just stagnated and cluttered. He couldn't formulate a phrase of his own, so he just gave a crude regurgitation of Aviva's words. "I'm going to make one phone call, and fiery vengeance will, uh, come over here very soon." It was a lot cooler when Aviva had said it, and even Tendua was confused.

"Wh-what?"

"Ugh! I don't have to explain it to you. Consider it payback. Look, just... my partner can help us. The only question is, are you going to help me?"

Tendua was silent.

"It's not that hard, just tell me about them. How to stop them? Come on, at the very least, tell me why he wants the leopards."

"I don't know."

"Ha! Really?"

"I don't think he knows either."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Look," said Tendua, "they've been... analyzing what cats they have in weird ways, not for themselves. I think they're working for someone or something, but... they kept me in the dark about everything, I was just... I was just there to give them environmental information. Just... what they did, how they lived how to - how to best catch them, and, well..."

"Where to put the traps?"

"Yes, _that_."

"And where are they working?"

"I - I can't tell you." He said stammering, and then again, more confidently, "I'm not going to tell you."

Martin was stunned. He thought he had been getting through to the man. "_What_."

"I've already put my family, my daughter in so much danger just by talking to you. If Bruce finds out - "

"He _won't_. I told you, my partner is going to take care of that. I'm just asking for a little support here, and of you really care about the leopards, you'd better give it. Just. The. Address. I don't think it's too much to ask."

Tendua shuddered and stared at his hands.

"You know what your daughter thinks of you, the one you're trying to protect?"

"I don't want to hear it."

"She thinks you're a loser, Tendua, and I think I agree."

"That's not true."

"She told me, she told me herself. Fathers, mothers, should be their children's heroes, their protectors. If anyone had threatened or hurt me or by brother or my sisters our parents would have descended upon them like a pack of dholes and shut them down." He knew this because it had happened before. "The longer these guys are in action, the longer your daughter is in danger. You're just hiding, you're just perpetuating your own problem, when you need to shut it down. You need to step up. You don't have to be a warrior, you don't have to even be a scientist, but for the love of god, be a _father_."

Tendua was still for a minute, and Martin worried what he said didn't get through to him, and that anything else he would say was hopeless, but then, Tendua pulled out a piece of paper, wrote something down, and tried to slide it to Martin's side of the table, only for it to get caught with the uneven grain of the table and the air and get pushed into an awkward flip that just landed it back where it had been first placed down. Martin reached across and grabbed it. It was an address.

"That's all I'm doing for you." He said.

"Fine, fine." Said Martin, who had now just exhausted his frustration and was just settling for disappointment.

"It's all I can do." He said. He gave a pleading look. "I'm not a bad person, Martin."

"You're right," said Martin, on his way out, understanding that Tendua really wasn't going to be any more help. "You're just pathetic."

Martin stormed out, leaving Tendua alone at the table.

.

.

.

_Well that could've gone better,_ Martin thought as he ducked into the car. _Or, a lot worse. Whatever, it's time to end this._

Martin was going to drive back to the house to call Aviva, but then his stomach told him he should maybe make other plans. He hadn't eaten in a long, long time, so he instead drove around town, looking for somewhere to eat, until he settled on a small pub. Normally he would try something a bit more local and traditional and less, well, European, but his gut was in blazing turmoil from all the stress so he figured he should avoid food that would just be gasoline to the fire.

It was empty and quiet, because it was a small town. Martin had brought along a translation guide, and managed to get an order in to the waiter, who spoke no english and was very friendly and patient. The waiter didn't need to speak the same language to see how troubled Martin was at the moment. The face alone spoke clearly enough, and it gave Martin some comfort just from getting some hospitality from the complete stranger.

He sat alone at the bar, staring into his drink. He had expected the day to be more heated and bombastic, but his conversation with Tendua just left him feeling... empty, and sad. The further separated he was from his rage, the more sympathetic he became towards the old man, who was just scared and confused, and sure his plan wasn't perfect or thought out through well, but no plan can be when you're under so much pressure and desperation. If anyone should have been able to understand that, it was Martin.

_Maybe... maybe I was too harsh on him?_

He tightened his grip on his drink, and tried to distract himself, by just listening to the sounds of the city. It was no natural forest orchestra, but any white noise at all was a little help. A dog barking, a few cars whizzing by, one pulling up to the pub, the door opening, heavy footsteps...

Martin did what's normal for people to do when someone new enters the room. He turned around to look at them.

God, how he hated normality. God, how he hated anomalies. How was this, in any way possible? How was this even allowed to happen? The man who walked in, the man who shouted, and cursed, and set traps in the trees, the man who had _found him_, it was -

"You're Martin, right?" Laughed Vincent Bruce. "Boyo, we have a lot to talk about."


	6. 6

Bruce stomped up to the bar, and sat next to Martin. He said something in Hindi to the bartender, who smiled and hurried off to prepare another order.

"Man," he said, "I just _love_ traveling. Anywhere you go, if you're a whitie like me, and you can speak the native language, they just eat it right up!"

Appalling comment aside, Martin was frozen stiff. He realized he had left the tranq gun in the car. Bruce slapped him on the back, which forced out a surprised and awkward gasp.

"Oi, don't look so glum, this isn't a funeral, mate. What'cha eatin there, huh? Ah, no matter, whatever it is, it's on me."

Martin gathered himself after the initial shock and managed a scowl as he took a slow sip from his drink. "Sorry," he said, "I don't accept blood money."

Bruce laughed that sort of those-are-some-tough-words-for-someone-in-your-position kind of laugh. "What, you think I make bank off the cats? Give me a break, I'd rather do it any other way."

"Great! So leave."

He laughed again. "I like you, you're a cheeky little bastard. Not like Dr. Tendua, he's just got that... _thing_, you know? Like every second's the end of the world or something."

"Tendua is a fine man." He said, quietly.

"Ta, I was gonna get to that. Yeah, I know he helped you get rid of all those traps. Honestly I was appalled I hired someone that sloppy, but give him credit, he didn't even tell me where you lived, that wanker! But he's not worth my time." The bartender brought Bruce his drink, and Bruce thanked him. "You, though, I gotta say, you're something else."

Martin was trying to mask his shaking. _Is this guy gonna kill me? Is he just toying with me?_

"I'll tell ya, that's a neat phone you have." Bruce continued. "We still haven't cracked it. Did you do the security on that thing, or... your roboticist guy or something? What's his deal?"

"_Her_ deal is that she's smarter than every guy in your operation combined."

"Oh, is she now? Sounds like quite a woman." He said. He grinned, his teeth were horribly crooked and brown. "I should ask her to make our stuff."

"She wouldn't."

"Ah, that's too bad. It really is a cool thing she made, just totally baffled all of us. In fact..." he reached into his pants pocket, and pulled out Martin's phone. He slid it across the table to him. "...you can have it back."

Martin finally looked up from his drink. "What?" He was stunned. Maybe Bruce didn't actually know evidence of the traps was on it.

"Sure, does me no good to keep it. Just one more small little thingamabob to keep track of."

Martin picked it up, and stared at it suspiciously. It didn't seem to have been changed in any way. It was troubling that it was being returned so willingly, though. If they didn't want it, why didn't they just destroy it?

"We didn't do anything to it, if that's what you're wondering." He said.

"I find that hard to believe."

"Ah, believe what you will." Bruce took a sip from his drink. "Won't affect me."

Martin scoffed.

"Hey, now, where's this attitude coming from? I don't know what the good doctor's told you about what we're doing, but I assure you it's not really that bad."

"Really? What could kidnapping wild animals possibly be for, then, that's not that bad?" Martin snapped. "Is this for the fur trade? Some sicko wondering what a leopard tastes like?"

Bruce laughed. "Nah, I know someone who might, but it's not for that hick. We're just... researching them. Getting info, hey! If you think about it, what we're doing aren't so different from what, uh, you guys do! Heck, we aren't even gonna keep the things."

Martin raised an eyebrow. "So you get your information, then just discard them?"

"Oh, no, no, no, no, nothing like that. We release them back to the wild when we're done, well, we _will_, we haven't gotten to that part yet."

"It's still inhumane! Those traps are really dangerous, and you can't keep wild animals trapped like that for so long!"

"Look, kid, it's a not a job I said I was good at, okay? Why do you think we brought Tendua along?"

"Yeah, that's another thing I don't get. If your operation's so squeaky-clean, why did you feel it necessary to threaten a man's daughter?"

Bruce's wicked glee vanished and was replaced by a serious scowl. His nose's red color spread like a wildfire to the rest of his face. "Look, I was told to keep this on the down-low. Keep it quiet. Tie up... loose ends. Tendua's not exactly an expert on discretion, you and I both know that, so he needed... incentive."

"You threatened a teenage girl."

"Exactly!" His villainous bounciness returned. "Now you get it. There's not an incentive stronger than that, my friend. I'm just getting things done for my boss."

"Who is your boss?" Martin asked. "What do they want?"

Bruce chuckled. "Hey, now, what part of keeping things quiet do you not understand?"

"Well, I guess I'll have to find out myself."

Bruce guffawed. "Woah! The balls on this kid! Listen, just do yourself a favor, okay? Pick up your stuff, head home, and pretend like nothing happened, yeah? The forest will continue on happy and stuff, and if we lose a few leopards, no big, right? Better for the little guys, scurrying around."

"That's not how that works, ecosystems. You get rid of the predator and the whole thing goes out of whack. Indian leopards are endangered enough as is, from habitat loss and-"

"Eh? Complicated. Nature was doomed to fail anyways, then."

"Well I'm not going to walk away."

"Really?" Bruce squinted. "That's a big risk you're taking there chap."

"You can't stop us, Bruce."

"'Us'? You're referring to your partner?"

Martin said nothing. Bruce sighed.

"Yeah, you're probably right. I know I can't touch her, she's really good, in more ways than one, I bet." The man gave a disgusting wink, and Martin returned with an infuriated expression. Bruce put his hands up in mock defeat. "You know what? You win, I'll leave."

Martin chewed on the inside of his cheek at that.

"No, yeah, I totally will! I'll pack up, and go somewhere else. We have a couple of private jets, we could get anywhere in the world in just a couple of hours, so we'd be out of your hair so fast. You know, you know where I want to go?"

"To the bottom of the ocean, I hope."

Bruce laughed. "Nah, nah, no, I've, uh, I sent a few guys there yesterday, actually, to pick someone up, and they just got back, and told me it's a really neat place, what was it, uh, Minnesota! Yeah, I'd love to go there."

Martin froze. _No. There's no way._

"They went to this little town, Northfield, it's a college town, for this place called Carleton, and - " he stopped to look at Martin with an evil smile. Martin was visibly horrified, and it was just what the man wanted. "No, don't tell me you actually know someone who lives there? Oh, I wonder if it's the guy I sent my guys to grab?" He leaned in really close. "You know someone named Christopher?" He began to laugh. It wasn't your typical bad guy laugh, that you'd expect from an action movie or anything like that. Out of context it would've seemed like the laugh of a man who just went out to get buzzed with his mates and heard a really funny joke. It sent shivers down Martin's spine, and he leapt from his chair.

"If you have done _anything_ to him," he said, frightened and furious, through gritted teeth, his voice cracking as if he had taken a spear to the lung, "I swear to god- "

Bruce just kept laughing and laughing that stupid, horrid, jovial, vile laugh. By now it sent not shivers but intense shockwaves through Martin's entire body, all of his muscles and bones were absolutely rigid.

"You just let me know, Martin," Bruce said between his guffaws, "what you want me to do!"

What could Martin do? Certainly not fight the man here; Martin was fit and a but more toned than the average guy, he was really active, and he did know how to throw punches from his rowdier high school days (he didn't really get along with the football guys, we'll leave it at that for now) but Bruce was just clearly a tank in every way. He couldn't reason with him either, that was now evident. This was a complete and total madman.

_I'm sure he was lying about everything else, please, let him be lying about this too_. Martin in a panic just turned and sprinted out of the pub, Bruce laughing all the way. He caught the wretched man's last words as he bolted through the door.

"You're hopeless, kid!" He said. "But an absolute riot!"

.

.

.

Martin was speeding down the road. Daylight was fading, and the rain had picked back up. Martin had already called Chris twice, to no avail. He tried a third time.

The _come on, pick up, pick up, pick up_ running though his head turned into _please be ok, please be ok, please be ok._

"Hello, this is Chris Kratt. I can't come to the phone right now, please leave your name, number, and a detailed message, and I will get back to you as soon as I can."

"Damnit, Chris!"

Martin always badgered Chris about making a voicemail greeting that was "less lame."

"Like what?" He had said.

"I dunno, 'this is Chris, if you're hearing this, it's already too late. The apocalypse is upon us! There's no hope for human survival! Death is imminent and there's no way to stop it! Thanks, leave a message!'"

"That's dumb! What if someone is calling about something important? What if, like, I get a job, and they were calling me to tell me I had gotten it?"

"They'd think it was funny."

"It would look _unprofessional_."

"Yeah, and you're not a professional. So who cares?"

"I care, you dolt."

_He has to be okay. He can't - oh god, he has to be fine._

Martin was starting to experience that same kind of irrational fear that Tendua had. The desperate thoughts of _how did they find him? I thought they couldn't crack the phone_ and _it's all my fault_ were driving Martin into an unhelpful and probably hurtful spiral, one that forced him forward, running, as if it were some kind of devilish propeller.

Only Martin wasn't running to hide, like Tendua. He was heading directly into the den of thieves.

Martin had plugged the address Tendua gave to him into his phone. Sure enough, despite having no cell service, Aviva's advanced system showed him right where it was. He noticed that, as he suspected, it was one of the houses along the quicker route to the part of the forest where the traps were.

_Aviva!_ He thought, suddenly. He called his friend.

It rang for a bit, then went to voicemail.

"¡Buenos dias! You have reached Aviva Corcovado, please leave a message! Por favor, deje un mensaje. ¡Gracias!"

"Aviva! Aviva, this is Martin, I need you to pick up! I got my phone back, but after talking to Tendua I ran into that Bruce guy and he..." Martin finally got a bit choked up. "I think they have Chris. I don't know what to do and I really need to talk, okay? Please call me back or something, please." Martin hung up and managed to stifle his urge to burst out bawling.

He put the phone down, and kept driving, but then - his phone began to ring.

Martin knew instantly who it was, he had specific songs for everyone's ringtone in his phone. Chris' was "Brown Eyed Girl" by Van Morrison, which annoyed Chris to no end, which was exactly why Martin kept it on. Many times Martin would ask Chris to call his phone so he could find it, Chris would ask, "Is Brown Eyed Girl still my ringtone?" Martin would shrug impishly, and Chris would refuse.

That was not the song that was playing, it was Hollaback Girl. Martin was starting to think Chris was right about having more professional settings on his phone, because the normally humorous choices he had made in ringtones were now just grating. Martin picked up the phone quickly.

"Aviva! Aviva?"

"Martin!" She said through the other line. "I'm so sorry I didn't pick up, I thought the bad guys still had your phone and were trying to-"

"I know, I know, I know, I get it, it's fine."

"What do you mean you ran into Vincent? What happened, how do you know that he - that he has -"

"He said he had sent guys to Minnesota - to, to where Chris - yesterday to 'grab' someone, and that they were back, and he knew his name, and it -"

"Martin, hold on, from India to Minnesota and back in less than one day? There's no way that's possible."

"He said they had private jets."

"I... okay, well, guess there is a way, but that's still pushing it."

"I know, but I -"

"Martin, he probably just... I don't know, looked you up or something, and is just saying that to freak you out!"

"But I called Chris and he's not picking up!" Martin said.

"Okay, okay, I get it, that's really scary, but we'll figure this out, okay? Just head home, we'll put a game plan together, I'll call up my contacts in Interpol, we'll get this sorted out."

It was comforting to talk to Aviva, but he had been hoping more for her support and less for her trying to deter him.

"I can't." He said. "I won't."

"Martin, what are you talking about?"

"Dr. Tendua gave me the address of the hideout. I'm going there now. I'll take a picture of it and send it when I get off the road."

"Martin, are you insane?"

"I can't just do nothing while my brother is with those... ugh!"

"He _might be_, and it wouldn't be doing nothing! The steps we take to plan things out are important, they keep us from getting in over our heads! Running in with no thought is probably exactly what Vincent wants you to do! ¡Increíble, this is exactly the same thing I was trying to get through to you about not coming here to begin with!"

"I was right, though, last time, about the leopards, wasn't I?"

"That doesn't matter, Martin! Please let us help you!"

"Just call your guys, Aviva," Martin said, angrily, "and pray they can get to me before I beat in the faces of every last one of those crooks."

Martin hung up, but despite his defiant last words, he was more afraid than ever.


	7. 7

Martin pulled up to the property, headlights out, and parked it as far away from the main gate as he could while still being able to reasonably walk to it from his car. True to his word, he took a picture of the address on Tendua's piece of paper and sent it to Aviva. He saw that she was beginning to type something in response, but he just put his phone back into his pocket before her message came through, assuming she was just going to try to dissuade him again.

The house itself was not actually a house he had seen on the road, but instead was tucked far back on the distant slope of the mountain, the only visible evidence of its existence being its light peeking and taunting through the pouring rain and pitch black night like a devious single amber eye. What was visible of the place from the road was the airfield Martin had noticed when he drove to retrieve his phone.

_They do have jets._ He thought. _He wasn't lying about that, which must mean _\- he swallowed hard.

Martin made sure to grab the handgun. It wasn't nearly as effective or lethal as the armaments he had seen the foes bearing, but it was all he had.

Martin looked around for a way to get in. He could scale the fence, but getting over the top of it was a different matter, as it was topped with loops of barbed wire. He looked everywhere to find a hole, or an imperfection or something, but the fence was brand new, and quite in good shape. The main gate was locked shut with some kind of electronic lock, and was also topped with barbed wire.

_I could ram my car into the fence, but they would probably notice that._

Then, Martin realized something. At the top of the gate, on the side that actually opened, there had to be a break in the barbed wire of some kind, otherwise the gate wouldn't be able to open at all. It wouldn't be pleasant, but there was a chance that there was a spot where he could squeeze through. He climbed.

Sure enough, there was a loose part of the wire right on top of where the gate would open. He pushed it back with his injured hand, as the bandages on it provided some cushioning, and managed to get past it, just with some minor tears to his clothing and small cuts on his cheek and right forearm. He dropped down onto the enemy's land.

Martin snuck along the outskirts of the airfield, trying not to get caught out in the open. It was a humbly sized stretch of land, and it took him about 15 minutes before he reached a small hangar. There, parked, were a few armored trucks, a large forklift, and two small jets. The lights were on, and he could hear the chatter of a few men, who sounded like they were laughing and having a good time.

The hangar itself was built into the steep mountainside, so Martin could actually clamber up the slope and get to the higher windows to look inside them. From what he could see, the men there were mechanics. They were sitting around a small collapsible table, playing some card game, drinking and smoking. He saw no Chris.

_It wouldn't make sense to keep him here anyways. If he escaped, he'd just have access to all these vehicles._ Martin looked further up the mountain. _I have to get up to the main building._

There was a road that seemed to connect the two places. It was winding, narrow and steep. It criss-crossed along the side of the cliff, but there were very thin stretches of forest within the sharp curves, so Martin tried where he could to remain in those middle strips, again out of fear of being seen, darting as quickly as he could to the next patch of forest whenever he found himself out on the open road. The journey itself was arduous, having to practically scale the forested sections just to sprint across what flat land would've given him remission. If it wasn't for the night and the rain, he would have overheated. He was certainly out of breath, and the time that trek took was not nearly as short as the time it took him to cross the airfield, but double, nearly triple so. Finally, Martin reached the edge of the trees, on the outskirts of a massive front lawn, which was still pretty steep, just barren, and beheld the base itself.

The facade of the building was shallow, and it was pretty easy to tell that most of it was inside the actual mountain. What was most striking was that it was not a fort, or industrial looking in any way. It was just a house, a big, beautiful forest mansion, clearly originally built for something other than what it was being used for now. It was, still, heavily guarded. Men patrolled the lawn with flashlights, shouting to each other over walkie-talkie chatter.

Martin's middleschool took a retreat once a year to this one summer camp, and the activity everyone always most looked forward to was a game they played called the Night Game. How it went was, after the sun went down, all the kids were split into teams, but went out on their own or with a partner, trying to get from one side of the camp to another. At the same time, all the teachers were searching around for them with flashlights. If a teacher caught a kid, they had to go back to the beginning, wait 60 seconds, and try to cross again. Whichever team had the most kids make it to the goal by the end of the night won. Both Martin and Chris had been really good at the game, rarely if ever being caught and usually being the first ones to make it (although Martin always had to trust Chris' word on that, as they were never in middleschool and thus never on the middleschool retreats at the same time, but it seemed like something Chris would be good at anyways). So Martin got a small droplet of amusement from the scenario.

_This is just like that game, right? I've just got to deal with armed guards who will shoot me on sight if I'm caught instead of teachers who will just be smug and gloating. I'll be fine._

He looked around for an approach. The obvious answer was to continue around the edge, remaining in the trees, and approach from the back of the house, where the trees came to it more closely. The downside of that route was that it would make more noise running through the foliage - however, with all the rain coming down, Martin bet that if he was careful enough he shouldn't draw too much attention to himself.

He did rather spectacularly, his little middle-schooler instincts kicking in when they needed to, despite being a good foot taller than he was back then; when a guard shined a flashlight in the woods he always knew just how and where to hide, and he made it nearly effortlessly to the back of the house.

The house, again, was built into the side of the mountain, but up here the slopes were even more steep, so he didn't just have access to high-up windows, he had access to the roof. He took it, and stared out onto the massive front lawn he had just circumnavigated, taking the time both to survey the area and come up with a plan of entry, and catch his breath. From there, he saw a car pull up out of the winding road and onto the driveway of the house- it was Tendua's.

_Of course._

But it wasn't Tendua who was driving it. Tendua, as Martin could see in the flashlight beams of the men below, got out of the passenger side. The man who emerged from the driver's side was Vincent Bruce.

_Oh crap, did they see my car_ suddenly occurred to Martin. He watched the two men talking to the guards, trying to figure out what they were saying, and what they were about to do.

_If they're all about to head inside, things are going to get way trickier for me._ The inside of a house wouldn't by any stretch of the imagination have as many spots of opportunity for stealth as a dense jungle did. So Martin scurried back into action, and tried to find a vent, a chimney, anything that could give him access from the roof, but there was no such thing, or no such thing he could fit into.

_And I'll bet every door here is guarded._ He thought, glumly. Maybe he could drop down onto a window, but it would be just too easy for them to spot him if he did that. On top of that, what was he to do if all the windows were locked?

_Maybe I could make a distraction..._

Martin noticed that there were more armored trucks on his right, further up the driveway, in a place he couldn't see from where he had been on the ground.

_Maybe I can set off one of their alarms, and slip in during the commotion._

Martin descended off the roof and approached the vehicles, sneaking silently all the way, brain still in night game mode. Thankfully, no one had gone inside yet, they are all still out talking, and while he didn't know how many men were already inside the house, this was probably the best chance he was going to get - but he went up to one of the trucks and found something even better.

It was unlocked, and the key for the thing was just... sitting there in the ignition.

I mean, why wouldn't it be? They were so confident in their ability to protect this place, it wasn't like they would have to worry about it getting stolen or anything. Martin grabbed the door, pulled it open and leaned into the driver side.

Martin didn't plan on driving off, obviously, he had to stay close to the house. However, with his inclination to fiddle with things only to end up breaking them, he had figured out during his drivers ed days how to jam an accelerator.

He did the deed, started the vehicle, pushed the gear out of park, and pulled out of the door quickly, watching with glee as it barreled towards some shocked poachers, with Bruce's face being particularly priceless, and down to the woods, where it crashed violently once it reached the tree line.

No one got hit, but they all stood in stunned silence. Many people who were guarding the doors and already inside the house rushed out to see what had happened. After that brief crucial pause of shock and confusion, Bruce barked a few orders, and all the men went in two different ways, with one pack heading towards the wreck, and the other half towards where the rest of the armored vehicles were parked - but Martin wasn't there anymore, he had already slipped into the house, through a door now that no one was keeping vigil over.

_Hang on Chris, I'm on my way._

.

.

.

Martin, keeping low, creeped around the house. It was mostly empty of men, as even more had been called out to investigate the truck's rampage. He remembered hearing their shouts and fastwalks coming from further down the hall as he weaseled his way in and out of a storage closet. He eventually found himself in a room full of monitors and scientists, amongst them the nasally shrimp-of-a-man Martin had seen the night before. Ducked beneath a cabinet, Martin eyed the screens and saw what looked to be things like DNA sequences and statistics, but he couldn't get close enough without being spotted to actually read exactly was up there. He pulled out his phone to see if he could zoom in on the monitors; upon turning it on he saw the notification for the message Aviva sent that he never read.

_"__Got it. Please be careful, Martin. Help's on the way"_ it read.

Martin couldn't get the lighting or focus right on the camera, and it was pretty obvious Chris wasn't here, so he moved on as quickly as he could.

Room after room there was nothing. Arms, ammunitions, supplies, sleeping quarters, but no Chris. _Where on earth are they keeping him?_ Martin knew he had to hurry, because sooner or later those guys were going to come back into the house, either to find the culprit or continue with their work.

When Martin reached one of the farthest back corners of the house, he spotted one particularly promising room, or, trapdoor, sequestered there. It still had a guard out in front of it despite the commotion.

_Gotcha_. Martin thought.

Martin only had three shots in his tranq gun, and he knew this was one he had to take. _Thhhhhoop_ went the dart into the man's neck, and in nearly an instant, he fell to the floor, Martin thanking who knows what in his head that this tranq was so silent.

There was one problem. The trapdoor was locked, and the guard did not have the keys.

_Shit_. Martin thought. Then, he remembered seeing a key ring in the room with all the scientists. He ran as quietly as he could back to that room.

When Martin poked his head in, this time the scrawny and shrewd scientist was alone, and on the phone with someone. His half of the conversation as Martin could hear it continued as followed:

"Yes, miss, I know we're incomplete on the muscle retraction, but- you know, it could be the bones that do all the work."

Martin approached the table, thankful that the little man was facing the biggest monitor and not him. He grabbed the keyring by the keys themselves to minimize the jingling. They let out a slight sound which made Martin's heart skip a beat, but apparently he was too fixated on his conversation to notice.

"Yes, yes, I know, every detail is important, I just - I think it would be easier if - yes, yes, yes, I understand miss."

Martin darted out before he could hear the end of it.

He raced back to the trapdoor, still no other men in sight, with the one guard still snoozing on the floor. Martin tried every key, and the third worked. He opened it, and descended the stairs.

"Chris?" He asked, peering into the dark. He activated his phone's flashlight. "Chris, you in here?"

Martin got back not a human voice, but an annoyed, deep, animal snarl. He quickly searched the nearest wall until he found a light-switch. Revealed then was what he came into: a massive room full of nine massive cages, four of which were occupied each by a pacing, growling, ferocious looking animal.

Chris was not being kept here. The leopards were.

Martin cased each of the cages to be sure, the animals snarling and lashing at him as he passed, but there was no sign of his little brother. What he did see still broke his heart - each of the leopards were clearly hungry and badly injured, with many of the cuts he saw looking straight and sheer, in other words, the epitome of the kind of wound he'd expect the traps he dismantled would inflict. One cat couldn't even stand, and just lied there, bearing its teeth, licking its wounds. One of the cats was just a cub, looking to be no more than 3 months old. Its caterwauls were more frightened and sad, and it leapt onto its hind legs, pawing at the cage walls, begging to be set free. He was disgusted and horrified, and in any other circumstances, a sight like this would've made him cry, but he had too much adrenaline in his system to process his emotions.

At the back of the room was a garage door.

_I'm underground. Where could this lead to?_

He set his phone down on a small nearby table, and was able thrust the door upwards, as it was just manual and not machine operated. He found an extensive concrete tunnel that was illuminated as well, with cobweb-ridden scones that lined each wall. It looked like the tunnel went all the way to the other side of the mountain. _That's how they got the cats in here, there must be a back door._

"Chris?" He shouted into the tunnel, just in case. No reply.

Martin started to head down into it, wondering if there were any other secrets, and got about a quarter of the way when something stopped him in his tracks.

Some sound coming from back in the leopard room.

_Is that...music?_

_"__Hey, where did we go?_

_Days when the rains came_

_Down in the hollow_

_Playin' a new game"_

Martin turned and bolted in the other direction.

_"__Laughing and a running hey, hey_

_Skipping and a jumping_

_In the misty morning fog with_

_Our hearts a thumpin' and you_

_My brown-eyed girl_

_You, my brown-"_

Martin snatched his phone up and answered the call.

Chris for the past three days had been absolutely itching to hear from Martin about his trip. I mean, helping _actual leopards_, out in the wild, no less! Chris already wished so badly that he could be out there too, certainly not in Minnesota grinding through his general education requirements, so not even getting any news had been disappointing at least and at most near torture. However, the barrage of missed phone calls from his brother that he only finally saw once his last class of the day was over was so absolutely baffling that he immediately rushed to his dorm room and called Martin back, without checking the contents of the voicemail messages.

"Martin, what on earth was that for?"

"Chris?" He said, shakily.

"I told you not to call me while I was in class! I gave you my schedule, right? Geez, I'm glad you've finally called, but you gotta get the timing right!" There was a silence. "Martin?"

Martin had sunk to the floor. He was weeping. The adrenaline had worn off, and it finally registered to Martin that he was in a place he really shouldn't be, with no plan, hilariously outgunned, backup who knows how far behind, really tired and, of course, had come here for nothing after all.

It was wonderful, and terrible. Nothing had happened to Chris. He was just fine. That was wonderful. But Aviva was right, it was a trap, and now he was trapped. That was terrible.

"Y-you're okay?" He said in hushed and crippling bewilderment.

"Yeah, I am! Did mom send another cryptic text about me or something? What - " Chris finally heard it, the crying. "Woah, are you - are _you_ okay?"

Martin was not. He fell apart.

"Ohhkay, uhm - wow, this is really, really bad."

"Martin, what? What's going on?" Chris was so unprepared to be talking to Martin today, let alone a Martin who was in such pieces. Though he had seen Martin break down like this before, Chris still didn't always know how to deal with it. If Chris was upset, Martin would comfort him, but if Martin was upset, that was usually a job for mom - not for a lack of Chris wanting to help his brother, his parents just told him most of the time that whatever Martin was going through was out of his depth, that he wouldn't understand till he was older. Chris did in fact understand when he got older, but that didn't make up for the fact that he still didn't have experience knowing what to say. So, Chris did what he did best, even though he knew it may not be the best thing to do - he tried to be rational.

"Martin, are you safe?"

"Not really, I'm- I'm in a poacher's basement." It sounded ridiculous to say it out loud. What was he even thinking?

"Wow, um, ok." Having not gotten any updates about the India trip, the fact that there were poachers at all was news to him. "Are you - trapped in the basement, are you their prisoner or something?"

"Yes, no, I - I broke in, and I don't think they know I'm here. In this room, at least, they probably know I'm at the house, but I -"

"Wait, but... why?"

"I crashed a truck!" He blubbered.

"What? No, no, but why did you break in?"

"I thought... they told me..." Martin couldn't bring himself to say to his brother that all of this was because some guy had pretended to abduct him and Martin had fallen for it. "Well, there's a tunnel..."

"Where does the tunnel go?"

"I don't know."

"Are you going to find out?"

"I can't leave the leopards!"

"Th- the leopards? They're... like, in the basement too?"

"Yeah, there are all these leopards in the cages and it's _really sad_." Martin having to be near the miserable and injured animals was not helping his breakdown.

"So... can you move the cages?"

"No."

"And does... Aviva know about the leopards?"

"Well, not _this_, but I sent her the address and she's gonna, um, send some guys here to, uh - I think Interpol or something, they really want her to join them so they do stuff for her."

"See? Well, there's your solution! The leopards will be fine, if Aviva's guys are coming after them. I mean, you've told me how awesome she is, don't you believe that too?"

This actually did calm Martin down. Chris' problem often was that he'd overthink things, Martin's was that he wouldn't think things through enough, and in the end they had a funny way of balancing each other out.

"You're right." He said, putting his head in his hands. "You're absolutely right."

They for a time in silence soaked in the distance and despair. Life is often so unkind to comrades, to friends, to brothers, not even considering this situation. They'd always promised eachother that one day, one day the two of them would travel the world, finding all the creatures they could, discovering new things, making new friends, going on adventures they couldn't possibly dream of, because everything would be a remarkable, formative surprise. It was such a pure and spirited goal in life they shared, but there had always been that one thing that seemed to be in the way, no matter how much they believed in that dream, no matter how much they cared for one another.

Martin couldn't wait, and Chris couldn't keep up.

"Are you still there?" Chris asked.

"Yeah." Said Martin. "Thanks. Sorry if I, uh - stressed you out."

"Hey, what are brothers for?"

"Stressing each other out?"

"No! No, I mean yeah, but I mean like... fixing things after. You would've done the same."

Martin chuckled. "Yeah, but you wouldn't have run head first into-"

Martin stopped.

"Martin?" Chris asked.

Martin could hear footsteps above him. _They've come back inside the house. They've found the body._

Martin rose to his feet.

_They've found me._

He was so worn and overwhelmed he hadn't even thought of heading to the exit, but now, it looked like he didn't have a choice.

"Martin, what's going on?" Chris cried, but Martin couldn't hear; he had lowered the phone from his ear.

The trapdoor began to open, and Martin turned and sprinted down into the tunnel. He heard shouts behind him, and the beginning of crisper, clearer footsteps barreling in his direction. At one point, his phone flew out of his hand, but he certainly didn't stop to pick it back up.

Every part of him was pushing, pushing, pushing. His muscles screamed at him to stop, but his brain screamed louder. The people behind him were trained, rested and in perfect condition. Martin never ate when he went to the pub, his body clock was all off, his head was spinning and any second he could collapse on the floor.

But he didn't. He kept moving.

He reached the end of the tunnel. Rain was pouring down outside, but a big iron gate kept him from it. He tried to open it like a door, upwards like a garage door, across like a sliding door, to no avail, as the footsteps grew closer and closer. His head was pounding too severely, his heart was beating too fast, and doom was too quickly approaching for him to take the time to study how the gate was operated, so he began to slam himself into it over and over, trying to get it open and - it worked. Maybe the lock broke, or the old rusty hinges gave in - either way Martin smashed the gate open and barreled past it.

That was not a good thing.

It was dark, and rainy, so there's no way Martin could have known this, but the tunnel did not open out onto a road, but onto a steep drop down the other side of the mountain. You see, the road was much, much farther down, and all the cat's cages had been brought up to the gate via that large forklift that was at the hangar.

So, instead of running off away from danger, Martin was now plummeting from it, sideways, his arm out in front of him, before he crashed into pain and darkness.


	8. 8

_Well, was it music?_

He woke as a cloud, swirling, churning around some ethereal sound; light, watery, like the chiming of bells.

He could see the rest of himself, but it was all moving too fast, spinning, distant, and dreamy, so he couldn't figure out what it was, or, even, who he was, whose body he was looking at, whose eyes he was looking through.

It was almost lovely. There were no thoughts, no fears, just a silent circling dance in the rain, like every part of him was no longer attached to the earth, disembodied from life and space itself, above it all but yet still nowhere in relation to it.

But slowly, the dust that he was settled, condensed, and plastered itself to the forest floor. The closer he came together, the more clearly reality bled through, and the more clearly he bled onto reality. He was lying in the dirt, unmovable, frozen stiff. The music he was hearing was the ringing in his own ears.

There was a massive pain coming from... somewhere. Around the shoulder maybe? He was still not collected enough to tell. He tried to turn his neck, but ended up screaming, and knowing nothing else. He relaxed for some time - a minute? An hour? A decade? A sense of time had not returned to him as well as a sense of space. When he was no longer in such pain that he lost all other feeling, he tried again.

He couldn't quite process what he was seeing. _That's not how arms are supposed to look._ It was bent in a weird way, like that part of him did not quite reassemble properly when it returned from its disassembled drift. It was strewn upwards, and bent not like a V, but more curved, like a U. There was something glistening poking through the skin, but he couldn't quite decide if it was a stick or his own bone.

Then, he heard something else, piecing through the ringing: a deep, thoughtful hum. He looked up to where it was coming from. In the trees, staring down on him, was a pair of intense, warm eyes. It was a leopard, crowned with stars.

He blinked. Was it real? Where had the rain gone? Was it going to eat him? These were hardly things that concretely crossed his mind, but the general state of confusion more or less reflected these questions.

But instead of giving any answers, or doing what any leopard would, it just remained there, looking a little peeved, but encouraging, as if it was saying, _come on, get up, we haven't got all day._

Beckoned by the leopard, he rose. He had expected the arm to be a problem, but it wasn't, it didn't seem to be for his four paws.

_Paws?_

He looked down. Sure enough, there they were, massive, muscular, taloned, and slashed with black stripes. He thought to flex his toes and they responded perfectly, the tension streaming up the tendons with no hesitation or complication, as if they had always been a part of him.

_Right. I'm a tiger._

The leopard growled in satisfaction. It got up, and rushed off into the thick of the trees.

_Wait! Come back, it's not safe up ahead! There could be more traps, or the poachers, or_ \- he tried to call out, but all that came was a roar.

_Well, I have to follow him, to keep an eye on him._

He did, and it felt great, it felt wonderful to run. Feeling unseen foliage splashed against his whiskers, his wide paws propelling him forward in a way that made him feel so powerful, in such control. The leopard would look back playfully over its shoulder from time to time, and it no longer felt quite like they were running out necessity, but just for the sheer joy of running. He felt more alive than he ever had.

Sometimes the tiger wished he could leap onto the tree and join more closely to the leopard, but he couldn't, his legs wouldn't allow it. Their's were two separate worlds, just running alongside each other, and for now, that was enough. They were two great cats, spirited kin, charging into the same wonderful world, just in different ways. It was two separate experiences, but one shared heart.

The tiger no longer dreaded what was lying ahead, but felt excited for it. Everything that they passed was brilliant and new and special, even if shapeless, and increasingly so as they proceeded.

Finally, the two cats came to a river. It was beautiful, wide, and its current sparkled in the moonlight. On the other side was more woods, clearly teaming with life, that same old lullaby drifting from the distant shore.

The tiger, joyfully, leapt into the river and swam across, the chilled water washing refreshingly through his pelt, his legs not touching the river bottom: the closest, he felt, he could ever get to flying. He reached the other shore and turned to watch his friend cross too, but...

The trees at the shoreline were too young, and the branches could not yet reach across. The Leopard lay still on the other side. The tiger knew the leopard would't be able to swim. He regretted crossing without him, but he was here now, and couldn't go back.

So there was the dilemma. He turned to the woods. The sounds and smells from beyond were just so enticing, so mysterious, just thinking about getting to experience them put a fluttering in his chest. But... if the leopard wasn't there, was it really worth experiencing?

He turned back to look at the leopard. How long would it take for the branches to grow, and create a bridge? It was so hard to tell. There was nothing the leopard could do about it, so it would be so unfair to leave him behind. But the call of the unknown, it was just so great...

He wished the leopard was closer so he could see his face. Maybe then he could tell through the expression, through the eyes what he thought the tiger should do, but he was just too far away.

_If only he were here, I could know what he was thinking, and then..._

The tiger sighed. Run off or wait? Run off, or wait? He began to pace, and grumble, and pace, and grumble, but then, he looked back.

_He has to wait. He doesn't have a choice._

He stopped pacing.

_How long could it possibly take for those branches to grow? If he has to do it, then it's doable, right? For just a few more years?_

He sat, and waited.

.

.

.

If the reader will forgive me for something quite cruel, I'm afraid I must leave poor Martin behind to address another scene of importance.

Dr. Tendua and Vincent Bruce were standing over the wreck of the truck. Tendua was shivering nervously, and Vincent was glowering.

"This was that son-of-bitch Martin, I know it!"

Tendua sighed through gritted teeth. Had he really come here? Alone?

"Any chance the... vehicle broke?"

"And catapult out like this? No way." Suddenly Vincent's face grew livid. He turned to the small man.

"Did you have anything to do with this, Tendua?" He bellowed. He grabbed the man by the shoulders and lifted him, shaking him. "I swear to god, Tendua, if you are a part of this, I will snap your neck and feed your bitch of a girl to the leopards!"

"Sir!" One of the guards shouted as he ran across the field. Vincent regained his temper just enough to set the horrified zoologist down.

"What is it?"

"Whoever it was, they've been taken care of."

Vincent raised an eyebrow as dread raised inside Tendua.

"Care to elaborate?" Bruce demanded.

"We found the leopard guard unconscious with a tranquilizer projectile lodged in his neck, with keys stolen from the computer room in the lock."

"Damned Wilfred, so bloody unobservant."

"We went down into the basement, and whoever it was -"

"_Martin Kratt_."

"Yes, uh, Martin Kratt, well, he sprinted off into the tunnel and managed to break through he gate, but... I guess he didn't know where it led to so he fell right out. Probably snapped his neck on the way down, but, men are investigating anyway."

Tendua's heart dropped. _It's my fault._

"And the leopards?"

"What about them? They were all still in their cages, untouched."

Vincent laughed and turned to Tendua. "Well, so much for that, my old man." He clapped his hands. "Alright! Business as usual! Get someone to clean this mess, and when the guards find the body, just... give it to the cats."

"Yes sir!"

"Cheerio!"

The guard hurried off.

"So, Tendua," said Vincent, turning to the scientist. "Tonight certainly didn't turn out how _I_ expected, how about you?"

"No." Said Tendua. "Tonight turned out even better."

Vincent scoffed. "Woah, was that sarcasm I just heard out of you, or did you find that little bastard as annoying as I did?"

Tendua said nothing. He looked around. They were the only ones still out on the yard. Vincent looked back up to the house, and began to chuckle like a schoolboy.

"Hah! Martin Kratt, more like... Martin _splat_. Yes? No? Too childish? Aw, whatever. What a way to go! That's just... too good."

Tendua pulled out a gun. A real gun. Vincent caught the motion out of the corner of his eye, and spun back around.

"Wh-"

Dr. Tendua shot Vincent Bruce in the head.

The monstrous man stood there with a stunned, twisted expression, as a trickle of blood streamed down his crooked nose. His shocked, contorted face gave the brief illusion that he might even still be alive, reacting to the surprising turn of events, but like many illusions that slowly faded. The hellish light left his eyes, and he slowly fell backwards to the ground, like a plank of wood that you tried to stand up on its smallest edge, only to be brought down by all laws of nature and gravity, not folding over or crumbling, but toppling neatly and straightly with little to no ceremony, splendor or dramatics. He lied dead in the mud like a displaced mannequin, like he had never been alive to begin with.

Maybe Tendua should not have shot Vincent. Maybe had he been left alive, and been caught by the authorities who were close to arrival, the information he had could've stopped terrible, terrible things that were to come in the future. But that's all speculation, he also could have been no help at all, so for all other purposes, for this moment, it was absolutely perfect.

Tendua breathed and looked up to the sky, just feeling the rain on his old face. He had done it. He had been redeemed - not necessarily to Martin, or his daughter, but to himself.

_I'm not a bad person. _He thought. Tendua turned to look at the house, and spat at it. He then left it behind, getting in his car, and drove away.

That gunshot, little did Tendua know, saved Martin's life. The people who were about, carefully scouring the slope in search of his body, all heard the gunshot, and turned and ran in the other direction, leaving Martin to safely rest and dream in the jungle rain.


	9. 9

Martin listened carefully to the words that welcomed him back into the world, though he couldn't understand them.

_De todas las cosas irresponsables que podrías hacer, la más grande sería si te rindieras ahora, imbécil. Ya tenía que volar todo aquí abajo, pero juro que si tengo que encontrar otro zoólogo, ¡el primer animal en el que estamos probando el traje de poder serán los gusanos que viven en tu cadáver!_

Whatever actually was said, the timbre sounded fiercely loving, furiously compassionate, admonishing and concerned. It carried him around like a stream, a small creek, lazy and soft, with sweeping cotton curves.

Martin opened his eyes; a dizzying pulse of white light drowned out the dark dreams he had been floating through. He squinted, just staring at the ceiling, straining to contextualize the blinding light and the feeling of rigidness and dull pain in his right arm. Finally, he regained the energy and forethought to try and look around.

Okay, it was a hospital room, and he was in a hospital bed. That was pretty obvious. And, he was alone - whoever was speaking to him earlier must have left, however, there were low and muffled murmurs seeping through a nearby door. Also, the room wasn't nearly as incomparably bright as it first seemed, in fact, no lights were on at all, so Martin was starting to think maybe a lot of what he had seen and heard was seen and heard while he was slipping in and out of consciousness. It would make sense, anesthetics do weird things to one's sense of time and place.

His entire arm and upper torso was in a cast, and he could feel his head was wrapped up too. This was not going to be a fun burden to bear, he could tell that instantly even with the intense drowsiness he still had. Bones had been broken before, in both him and his brother, many times in fact. They were rowdy, active kids, running in the woods, climbing on trees and boulders, riding bikes everywhere they could - but he hadn't ever seen a brace this large. A tiny bit of that boyish morbid curiosity bubbled up, and he started trying to imagine all of the crazy, outrageous injuries that could be hiding inside all that plaster. Was he shot? Did a leopard attack him? He didn't remember too much of what happened, he recalled being in the basement, then running and then -

The door opened. Who came through surprised him, as he would've expected a doctor or something.

"Aviva?" He said, caught off guard by the gurgling in his own voice. He cleared his throat, which only helped a little. "What're you doing here?"

Aviva looked tired, and a little exasperated, and Martin was half expecting her to just start chewing him out. Instead, she just sighed, pulled a chair up to the side of his bed, turned it around and straddled it, looking down at her hands then up at him with an unexpected softness.

"They were all horribly worried about you, and tried to find a way, but no one in your family was able at all to come down here, so... they asked me to check up on you."

"You just get here? What... what day is it?"

"I've been here for a couple days." She gave a sleepy smile that still radiated a newly awakened hopefulness. "It's good to see that you're finally... sober? I guess?"

"Sober?"

"You were pretty loopy on anesthesia for a while."

"Oh."

"It was kinda funny, actually, you kept insisting that you were a tiger and demanding that we get Chris because he'd think it was cool, but..." her shallow giggle fizzled out. "So... how are you?"

Martin looked around. "You tell me. I have no clue what's happened." He glanced down at his cast. "Or what this is."

"It's two compound fractures on your arm, and pretty severe ones too; you also snapped your collar bone, or so they say. You have a small fracture in your skull as well, but your arm must've taken the brunt of your fall."

"Fall..." Martin squinted his eyes. He was starting to remember that, a brief weightlessness, or was it intense weightedness? He remembered... flailing, reaching out and then - "Wait, 'so they say'? What, do you not trust the doctor or something?"

She groaned and Martin flinched. It was Martin's instinct to make little quips like this but it was obvious Aviva was not in the mood. "Sorry." He said.

"It's not you, Martin, it's..." she sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "The guys I got to help out were not nearly as helpful as I had expected."

"What...Interpol?"

"I... thought it would be them, but... apparently the job got relayed to some other group, and, well," she put up her hands in a quick shrug of annoyance. "Apparently this goes deeper than either of us knew, Vincent is connected to some other high-profile investigation thing that these super covert black ops guys are dealing with, so after they came back from the property they practically told me _nothing_. I mean, they told me about you, but... not much else. It's all very" Aviva made air quotes "hush hush."

"Wait, so... they did get Bruce, right?"

"Yeah, no, uh, they said Bruce is dead."

"They..."

"He was when they got there, shot in the head. They thought it was you that did it but I told them that you wouldn't... you didn't, right?"

"What? No, oh no that was not me. I made the car crash but then I went right inside the house."

"Car crash? They didn't tell me about - ugh, of course they wouldn't."

"But Bruce! I can't believe...Who could've..." Martin was stunned that something like that had happened, the same night he was there no less. Bruce was a bad, bad man, but the thought that someone who he had just talked to a few days ago, which was also the last day he was even awake, was now dead just felt unsettling. Did one of his own men turn on him? Did he turn on himself, realizing the walls were closing in on him? Martin was trying to think of any possibility, any explanation, and one came up - one that brought in a whole new wave of concerns. "Where's... where's Dr. Tendua?"

Aviva shrugged. "They were extra shifty about that. They said they went to his house and he was just gone, both him and his daughter, but for all I know, they have him in custody now and are just covering it up." Aviva saw in Martin's face how deeply troubled he had become. "Well, if it's any consolation, those agent guys told us it isn't our problem anymore."

"Yeah?"

"I mean, of course they asked me if I wanted to 'help out' which probably means just making a bunch of drones and weapons for them, so I definitely turned them down, I mean who do they think I am, Zach Varmitech? Please."

Martin sighed.

"Oh, come on Martin, it's not like they'd ever let _you_ get involved."

"I know," he said sadly, "Is there... could you hack them maybe? See if you could find what they aren't telling us?"

"That seems like a waste of resources, Martin. Besides, they're frustrating, and a little shady, but they seem capable. I trust them to take care of things."

"It just sucks that... someone wanted those animals hurt or exploited or whatever, and I can't do a thing about it.

I mean I could've, but I just... messed that up." He breathed through gritted teeth. "I messed it _all_ up."

"I'll be the judge of that." She leaned forwards over the back of the chair. "Tell me what happened."

Martin stared at her blankly.

"Like, what you did. Better get it off your chest now, because the next chance you're gonna get to say anything is when those agents interrogate you."

Martin chuckled a bit. "Oh, alright." He began telling her his story starting after he hung up on her - although she made him go back to his conversation with Tendua and then Bruce because he never did completely inform her of what occurred there - then he got to how he climbed the fence and the mountain, crashed the truck and broke into the house, how he shot the guard with the tranq gun and went into the basement to find the leopards, but also that Chris was still in Minnesota, not kidnapped, not in danger, and that he was, in fact, pulled in by a ruse.

"You were right." He said. "Again. It all fell apart and now... this."

"Yeah." Aviva shrugged. "I don't blame you though, I really don't. You were worried about your brother!"

"Yeah, but I ... god, and I had just lectured Tendua about thinking things through, too! Ugh, it was just dumb. I was dumb."

"I don't know, you did pretty brilliantly considering the circumstances. That car trick was cool."

"I shouldn't have been there in the first place."

"Maybe this time, Martin." She said. "But other times? I think that's gonna be a really cool thing about you."

"That I'm dumb?"

"You're a go-getter, Martin. You didn't have a lot of cause to go to India, but if you hadn't, we wouldn't have found out about this scheme at all, let alone put an end to it! You don't seem to need a reason to go out and get things done, and that's fine, because, well, sure things don't always turn out great for you, but if we did it my way all the time, things wouldn't turn out at all. Ever. Everything would just slip beneath our radar."

"Wait, so... you're saying I _should_ jump blindly into every situation?"

She winked. "With moderation, Martin. You need to stay alive at least. Just don't - " she paused, and her smile faded.

Aviva wasn't there when the agents stormed the poachers' house, and thank goodness too. She might never have recovered if she had found her friend looking the same way they did - lying helplessly, twisted unnaturally against the base of a tree, arm broken so horribly it looked like it had no bones in it at all, so much blood over his face that they thought he had to be dead until they touched his neck for a pulse and in reflex he shrieked in agony. She could hardly stomach the description they gave her, or even watching him lie in the hospital bed when he was still in a more critical condition, but when he woke up, well, getting to interact with Martin, who was a lovable goofball anyways, when he was so amusingly loopy on medication was a brevity she needed, even if it was just that, brevity, brief. Now reality had returned, and while it was great that Martin was safe, the uncertainty and unpleasantness of the whole affair still lingered over her like a bad stench.

She couldn't even imagine how bad it must've been for Chris.

The night it all happened, she had just gotten off the phone with Interpol after giving them all of Martin's intel, when she got another call, from someone she hadn't really gotten a lot of calls before.

At the other end, Chris was just panicking, bawling, about how he was talking to Martin, and Martin said he was in some basement with leopards, but then there was shouting and running and he just _lost_ him and didn't know what else to do or who else to call. Aviva didn't know Chris as well as Chris knew Martin, so she didn't have the right words to diffuse the panic that the brother's would've had with eachother. At first all she could do was promise the terrified kid that Interpol was going to be there as quickly as they could, and they were going to do everything in their power to bring him back safely. Eventually she realized that most of his anxiety stemmed from the fact that he just didn't know what was going on, and so she gave him the story, or at least, what parts of it she had. It didn't ease his troubles too much, but it was at least a long enough story for his eyes to grow barren of tears, for the moment anyways, because when she called him the next morning to let him know Martin was going to be okay, she found out to her dismay that Chris had cried himself to sleep that night. It was just so uplifting to hear Chris' deep sigh of relief through the phone, but I say again, it all was only brevity, brief, just like the moment that passed in which the distilled essence of these bad experiences gripped at the pit of her soul before she finished her thought.

"Just don't go alone, next time."

Martin nodded. He had learned that too. "I won't."

"Also, Martin, you owe your brother an apology. You really freaked him out."

"Oh, well, do you have -"

There was a knock on the door. Some guys in suits emerged. One of them flashed a badge; it was official looking, but Martin didn't recognize it as any badge he'd ever seen, although the only expertise he had on badges was from a couple of glances he had made at the crime shows Chris would sometimes watch, so he had no grounds not to trust it. Besides, Aviva just grunted, so it was obvious that these were the guys she was talking about.

"Ah, he's awake!" Said the man who had held up his credentials. "Are we interrupting something?"

Martin wanted so badly to say something snarky like "oh, yeah, this lying here motionless and doing nothing is REALLY important and needs lots of concentration" but these did not look like the types to take a joke, so he was just honest. "No, you're not."

"Good. Good! Then we'd like to ask you a few questions..." he looked at Aviva with a bit of suspicion, "in private."

"Yeah, yeah." Aviva got up from her chair, and turned it to face the proper way, whispering at Martin, "Good luck, mijo."

Both Martin and the suits watched her walk out. Martin felt a little warmth grow in his chest, knowing he had such a wonderful friend and powerful ally in his corner.

He owed it to her, to everyone, to get through this. He answered the agent's questions truthfully and plainly, not for them, nor for their investigation. They had pretty clearly taken the whole matter out of his hands, and were just here to squeeze what they could from him before leaving him behind, so now what was important to Martin was getting this over with, and moving forward to a future where all that mattered should be what lessons he had learned and nothing else, no danger, no villains in a house on a mountain; a future where this dark discovery was nothing more than a bad dream, a whisper, a ghost, exactly what _everyone_ wanted it to be.

.

.

.

She sat, and there was darkness. She was as surrounded by it as she was filled with it - it weaved through her long wispy hair, it snarled from her heart, it swirled in her eyes, upstaging the reflections of the lone computer screen that shone icily onto her pale face. She looked like a ghost, quietly haunting, shadowy and small, almost nonexistent, but still such a frightening sight.

_That's too bad,_ she thought.

Was it a setback? No, not really. She wasn't on a schedule anyways, and hadn't even put much stock in this particular operation. Vincent, after all, for all the pressure she had put on him, was still just a brute, who preferred power and instant gratification over the bigger picture. He died still in debt, but it's not like that would effect her. It didn't change anything, it didn't matter, it was _just too bad_.

Thinking about it made her smile. There was a glint in her teeth that was just a bit unnatural, like her heinous plans were somehow what was flashing there, because those plans were even greater, more awful than all that overwhelming darkness, but were only just peeking out, toying with their rival, whispering at it that while it owned the scene now, it couldn't possibly understand what it possessed, and should certainly be afraid of it.

_Another client, then_, she thought. She pressed a button on the laptop.

"It's me. You remember that smuggler duo we met a few years ago? Call them, tell them I would love to sponsor their operation." She pressed the same button again.

_Let's hope they actually know how keep quiet. It's_ _such a bother to have to repaint more pawns._

And with one glance, the laptop slammed shut on its own. All hopeless light was swallowed up, and she sank seamlessly and completely into the dark.

.

.

.

The suits came and went for a few days. Martin got the impression that they would've been more than happy to stay with him 24/7 were it not for the nurses rushing them out, insisting that he needed rest. It was true, Martin was mostly pretty out of it, his few moments of complete clearness lasting for only a couple of hours at a time.

Through it all, Martin never got a good grasp on what the organization they worked for was or did. However, through all the secrecy and vagueness, there was one thing Martin had perceived from them: they did in fact have absolutely no idea where Dr. Tendua was.

Many times it was just the same questions over and over, probably trying to make sure Martin's story was consistent, and not a fable or the result of drug-induced blurriness, which was fair. Many times they asked him about himself, his family, his history - those particular questions aggravated him, but he tried not to let it show. Either way the process was tedious. The days passed, the agents came and went, but finally, one day, after about a week of the same routine, they never showed up. Aviva arrived instead, saying that they had thanked her for their time and left.

She had dropped in a few times in those previous days as well, mostly to catch him up on things, how his family was, what the agents were and weren't telling her, how the leopards were fine and in the hands of vets, but also just to talk, to be a friend, to be a familiar face in all the strangeness, but she never could get much time with him before the authorities burst in and kicked her out. It was such a massive relief to finally have some proper company as he recovered, but there was one thing he was even more concerned about, that the agents certainly hadn't helped him with, so it was a weight lifted off of him to finally have a chance to address it.

"Hey, Aviva." He said, groggily.

"Yeah?"

"What happened to my phone?"

"Your phone? I'm not sure. Either it was broken beyond repair or swept away into some stash of evidence."

"Hmmm."

"Why do you ask?"

"Is there any way... will you... could you get me a new one? Or I could... I'd pay you for it, I just can't move right now so I... but I really..."

Her face had lit up. "I may be able to do you one better, Martin." she pulled out a small metal trapezoidal object. It was as of yet colorless, and it looked kinda like one of those early iPods, only she held it horizontally instead of vertically. "If I keep at it, it should be done in a few months, in time for you to be fully recovered."

"Oh! It's the...thing!"

"Name still pending!" She winked. "It won't exactly be like a normal phone, at least when it comes to the network. It'll only take and receive calls from others of its kind."

"Does it work?"

"Its calling feature does, yes, and I've also successfully added the positioning system. It'll have other features I'm still working on."

"So... are there others I could call? Right now?"

"The only other one is in Las Cruces with Koki. You can give it a try if you want!" She offered it to Martin.

Martin frowned.

"Do you... have a regular phone I could use?"

"Oh! You wanted to call... oh I get it."

She pulled from her pocket her own regular smartphone, and passed it to him. "I'll... I can give you the room, if you want."

"Yes please." He said, quietly.

She slipped out.

What had bothered him so much all that time was Aviva telling him he needed to apologize to his brother.

_I still don't have his schedule,_ he thought. Martin looked at the clock. It was around 11 pm where he was. His foggy brain strained to do some time-zone math to figure out whether Chris would be in class.

_Oh wait, it's Saturday_.

Martin called Chris. Not a video call, just a regular one. He wanted to see his brother's face, but the doctors told him not to stare at screens too long, for his head injury.

"Hello, Aviva?" The voice came through. It was a weary one.

"Hola." Said Martin.

"Martin? Martin! Oh my gosh, hey!"

"No, this is Aviva." His currently froggy and particularly baritone voice did little to support the jest, which almost made it better - Chris knew it was his brother all the same. He laughed, and it made Martin smile.

"Good to see you only broke your arm and not your brain. I was worried you would get permanent brain damage or something."

"Maybe I did, Susan." Martin said, cheekily.

"Dude, knock it off."

"Hey, I'm sorry."

"For that dumb joke? You better be."

"No, I..." Martin sank back a bit into his pillow. "I'm sorry for...for involving you, and for... freaking you out, and..."

"Freaking me out? Martin, think about how freaked out you were!"

"I won't."

"What?"

"I won't think about it. I'm not freaked out now, but you are, and you shouldn't be. So I'm sorry."

Chris was a bit overwhelmed. He just wanted his brother to be okay, and never really blamed him for what happened. If anything, he wished he could have been _more_ involved.

"It's ok, really. Aviva told me what happened so... it made sense for you to try and contact me. Also, I called you, remember?"

"Yeah, but I... oh, gosh, there are a lot of things I need to apologize for, isn't there?"

"Then... just don't."

"But - "

"Your broken arm is gonna be a pain enough. Just don't bother, I'm... you're alive, and that's enough for me."

Martin quietly realized Chris was right. All the mistakes he had made, well, he paid for them and learned from them. There just wasn't any point to beg for forgiveness, especially if forgiveness had already been handed to him.

But that was the thing. Martin hadn't thought of it that way. Chris had.

Martin had pestered Aviva to get the suits and the Tortuga done as soon as possible, and even then he was itching too much to wait for the action to start. Aviva predicted it could all be finished after about two or three years of development, very tightly-packed, unrelenting development, but even still...

That meant one or two years of leaving Chris behind.

_The trees at the shoreline were too young, and the branches could not yet reach across_.

"Hey Chris?"

"Yeah?"

"I haven't talked to Aviva about this, but...I'm going to ask her to slow things down."

"Slow... what things?"

"The, you know, the project."

"Really?" He chuckled. "Not so ready for the field after all, huh? Can't believe it took you a fall like that to figure it out, I could've told you that myself."

"Yeah, well... that's what I'm counting on."

Chris was quiet for a bit, trying to interpret what exactly he was saying, but when he picked up on it, he was hit with a latent shock.

"Wait, no, you're not doing this for me, are you?"

"We made a promise, didn't we, that we'd do this together? And, well... I found out what happens when I break that."

"You break your arm? You're not blaming that on some oath we made as kids, are you? _I feel like that would've happened regardless_. Look, we were really little, it wasn't exactly... sacred."

"No, it's not about that. Look, I've made up my mind. It just wasn't really... fair, you know? To want to go on without you. I guess that's what I'm sorry for."

Chris protested a bit, but deep down he was relieved. Being the youngest is rough, because it feels like you're always behind in everything, no matter how much you grow up, or even what you may be better at than your older kin. To know that Martin was holding back, against his own impatient nature no less, for _him_, well... it was a wonderful thought.

"Yeah, I... guess it would be nice. Gives me a chance to keep an eye on you, lord knows you need it."

"That, there, Chris, I believe is what's called the pot calling the kettle black." Martin laughed. "Let's not forget the trouble YOU got in while I was gone."

"Yeah..." said Chris.

There was a small silence.

"Martin, you're really sure?"

"Positive."

"You're fine with waiting that long?"

"Oh, sure. Wouldn't hurt if you graduated early, but... no, I can do it."

"We'll see about that." said Chris, on a final leg of amusement. Despite his jab, he had absolute faith that Martin would do it. He always did. He really had been deeply scared and troubled by the phone call he had with his brother, so it was calming to know nothing like that would happen again, because Martin would wait, because on the next big adventure, even if it was scary or troubling, at least neither of them would be alone.

"Hey, how hard could it possibly be?" Martin said. "It's just a few more years."

.

.

.

_TILL NEXT TIME, FIN_


End file.
